Year Six: Harry Potter and the Secret Letters
by Chiba Lae
Summary: Drarry; Slash: Harry receives secret letters over the summer from Draco, going by the name Judas. Throughout their 6th year, the bond they build is stronger than either anticipated. But Draco's assignment from the Dark Lord looms overhead and threatens everything he holds dear, including Harry. A rewrite of the 6th book.
1. Judas Iscariot

Disclaimer: I, no matter how obsessively devoted, strong-willed, talented, adoring, loyal, dedicated, enthusiastic, committed, passionate, dutiful, faithful, fond, attentive, supportive, fervent, or fanatical I may be, do not own any part of Harry Potter.

Year 6: Harry Potter and the Secret Lover

Chapter One: Judas Iscariot

As usual, Dudley Dursley sat before the television, stuffing his face and pretending to be a child prodigy, while Harry Potter slaved over the stove. It was this kind of labor that made Harry thankful for the house elves like Dobby who worked so joyfully at Hogwarts. Finishing up the bacon that still sizzled in the pan, he set the table for three and begged to himself that Uncle Vernon would send him to his room for breakfast.

"Come and eat, Dudderkins," called Petunia motherly. "We can turn on the tèlè in the dining room for you, if you want."

Vernon came down stairs at that moment, kissing Petunia sweetly, and sitting at the table expectantly. He sent Harry a rude glance and ordered, "Where's my coffee, Boy?"

"Oh!" Harry whispered to himself, spinning around in place looking for the coffee pot. Grabbing it as soon as his dizzy vision located it, he poured his uncle a cup without even a grunt of gratitude coming from the man. He was used to this treatment by now though, as one usually is after fifteen years of experiencing such behavior.

As cousin and aunt took their places at the table, Harry stood by in the kitchen and watched. Vernon had unfolded his newspaper and neglected his breakfast as he sipped his espresso. Dudley had set aside his bag of potato chips, and, finding a renewed interest in his pancakes and sausage, seemed to not have the ability to remove his eyes from the television screen. Petunia was nibbling her bacon in a way that reminded Harry of a mouse, or a certain animagus by the name of Peter Pettigrew.

His uncle glanced up and caught the wizard staring. He scowled and commanded irritably, "What are you doing standing around, Boy? Do something useful!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," answered Harry obediently, snatching a slice of toast from a plate in the kitchen and heading straight for his bedroom. Hedwig had come back from a long flight a couple of nights ago, carrying a letter from Ron in his beak, and Harry had been meaning to send her off with a reply. Closing the door behind him, he took a seat on his bed and retrieved a piece of parchment from his nightstand. Opening it he reread his best friend's letter.

Hey Mate,

Bloody hell! You'll never guess what happened! Seems Hermione and I are going on a date or something. It's really strange to be around her right now, but I mean, well, you know what I mean. It's _Hermione_ for goodness' sake. Do you think anything will happen? Is this okay with you? It should be, but I wanted to make sure. I'll definitely keep you posted. Nothing will change though. Right? Things will still be the same as they've always were? This whole idea is working me into a frenzy. Mum hasn't stopped fussing over us, Fred and George have been teasing me like crazy and Ginny keeps trying to give me dating tips! My little Sister? Giving _me_ dating tips? Can you believe it?

Oh! By the way, you will be coming out to the Burrow for your birthday, right? The women here have been talking about a surprise party or something. I thought you ought to know about that. Just don't tell any of them that I told you. They'd murder me. Hey! That gives me an idea. Why don't you go with Hermione and me on our date? Then at least she couldn't kill me in front of you, and then you could tell me if I'm doing something stupid. What do you say? See you soon then?

Your friend,

Ron

Harry smiled to himself and salvaged a blank piece of parchment, a quill, and a well of black ink from under his bed where he kept all of his school supplies. Careful not to spill the ink on his sheets, he dipped the tip of his quill into the thick, black fluid and set the wet tip to write.

Dear Ron,

Congratulations for getting the chance with Hermione. I understand how you feel. I did the same kind of thing with Cho, although she wasn't my best friend for starters. I don't think that everything will be _exactly_ the same as they were, but I'm sure it won't change for the worse. But then again, I'm not really an expert on this sort of thing either. Nonetheless, I absolutely cannot go on a date with you Ron! That would be disturbing and embarrassing on _so_ many levels. You'll just have to go with Hermione alone. Although, I have to say, Ginny giving you tips must be pretty humiliating in itself. Is she giving Hermione tips too?

As for my birthday, I suppose I can go. The Dursleys pretty much understand that I don't care what they say anymore. I'm sure they won't miss me much either. And thanks for the heads up. By the way, do any of you have a clue who our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher will be? I just got my Hogwarts letter, but I haven't had the chance to go to Diagon Alley yet. Have you already bought your supplies, or do you think I can go with your family to Hogsmeade?

And you'll have to tell me when your date is and when I can come over. We only have a couple more weeks before school starts.

Your Best Mate,

Harry

Rolling up his freshly written letter and tying it with a strip of leather to Hedwig's outstretched leg, he opened his window and let her out of her cage. She immediately flew out of the old room and toward the Burrow which seemed so very far away to Harry.

He awoke the next morning to a tapping sound coming from his window. Groaning, he searched the nightstand for his glasses and placed them on the bridge of his nose. The noise was coming from an owl who was striking the glass pane again and again, almost in a desperate manner. Harry allowed the bird to enter as quickly as his groggy body could manage so as not to awake to rest of the household. The bird flew over to his bed and waited for Harry to assist it in removing the spool of parchment from its leg. It was then when Harry woke himself up enough to realize that he did not recognize the bird, or any reason why he should be getting mail. It was too soon for a response from Ron or Hermione, he already received his Hogwarts letter, Sirius was dead, Hagrid had no reason to write, and no one else ever messaged Harry via owl post.

The owl's feathers were black with patches of white on its stomach, tail, and around its eyes. On its leg was a scroll tied with a silken emerald ribbon. Harry kept a solid, unblinking gaze on the bird's unnatural, silver eyes as he neared the creature to retrieve his letter. The bird just stared back and ruffled its feathers impatiently. When it thought Harry was close enough, it stuck out its leg so as to be rid of its burden. With the letter in one hand, Harry reached out with his other to pet the owl's head. Unfortunately, the creature did not want such contact and bit Harry until he bled.

"Ah," gasped Harry, hissing and sucking on his bleeding finger. The owl flew to Hedwig's cage, sipped her water, and fell almost immediately to sleep. Harry glared at the open cage, annoyed and confused. His thoughts then turned to the letter and ribbon in his hand. As he returned to sit on his bed, he inspected the exterior of the letter curiously. It was ordinary parchment, but a light musky scent emitted from it. Harry thought it pleasant and found a comfortable position against his upright pillow. Opening the scroll, he saw that it was written in a clean script of green ink. It certainly wasn't any of his friends then. They only wrote in black ink. In fact, the only people he knew to ever write in green ink were the ministry and Professor Dumbledore.

The letter had his complete and utter attention. It read:

Dear Harry Potter,

Thank you for receiving my owl so kindly. I apologize if it was rude. It was never very well-mannered. However, my owl is not the reason that I have written to you. You see, I have attended Hogwarts with you for the past five years, and though I am sure that you have never thought of me as such, I have become rather attracted to you. Although I know that I am not the only person who is, I thought that I may write to you and make you aware of my fancy for you.

Unfortunately, I cannot tell you my name; you may call may Judas Iscariot though, as strange as that may sound.

Tell me, Harry, am I the only person who has ever given you a Secret Admirer letter? That is a reassuring thought to me. Perhaps you will discover me at Hogwarts, although I am sure that I will be just as invisible as I have always been to you. Maybe we could keep in touch at Hogwarts through owl post, that way we could talk to each other without you being disappointed about my identity. Would you do that for me, Harry?

Oh, by the way, the ribbon and ink are the same color as your eyes. They made me think of you.

I hope to receive a response from you soon. You may send it back with Aristotle if you wish. My owl, I mean. He would be able to find me easily enough. Although, he had a rather lengthy flight over to you, and I would greatly appreciate it if you would allow him to rest for a short while with you before sending him off again. Thank you… Truly thank you, Harry.

Sincerely,

Judas Iscariot

Harry read over the letter quite a few times before laying it down in his lap and staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully. 'I have a secret admirer?' he asked himself. Sure, nearly every man, woman and child in the wizarding world knew who he was and looked up to him because of it. However, none of them were romantically interested; at least, none that he knew of. He glanced down at the letter and frowned at it. At any rate, it couldn't be a Gryffindor. He spent too much time in the common room to not notice anyone who may fancy him, right? He furrowed his brow and blinked at the ceiling confusedly. But then again, as he told Ron, he wasn't really an expert at this sort of thing.

"I'll have to talk to Hermione about it," he decided firmly. He leaned over the side of his bed to dig out the materials for a return letter. He peered at his black ink blandly. 'I don't really know this person. Black will just have to do for know,' he thought with a shrug. As he set his quill against his parchment, he tried to write a decent response.

Dear Judas Iscariot,

Yes, you are the first person to ever send me a Secret Admirer letter. Usually people just ogle at me in the corridors. It's quite annoying, actually. Honestly, I am surprised that you have written to me. But you have caught my interest now, and I would like to hear from you again, definitely.

Aristotle seems alright. He bites rather hard though. You said he had a lengthy flight; where do you live that's so far away?

Signed,

Harry Potter

He went over his own letter numerous times. It was short, but he did not know what to say. It was very strange to write a letter to a person that he did not know. He added at the bottom of his letter:

And thank you for the ribbon.

Yes, it was _very_ awkward.

At that moment, a harsh knocking sounded on his door and the voice of Aunt Petunia came from the other side. "Wake up! It's nine o'clock, and breakfast isn't ready. Vernon will be late for work!"

Harry sighed, rolled his eyes, and threw his head back against the headboard of the bed. "Yes, Aunt Petunia," he called back dutifully. Reluctantly rising from his bed, he tied his letter with another piece of leather, closed and locked the window, and laid the scroll on the sill.

He returned to his bedroom later that morning after Vernon had left and his chores were finished. He went to grab to letter to send with Aristotle, only to find that the window was open and both Aristotle and his letter were gone.

XXXXXXX

A couple of days after the incident with the Iscariot letter, Hedwig came back with an anxious letter from Ron, urging Harry to come as soon as he could. The orphan got the impression that the women at the burrow were driving the redhead mad and he needed someone else there to share it with. Although this idea had thrilled the Boy Who Lived to no end (note sarcasm), it was more the desire to leave the Dursleys that drove him off. The night of Ron's letter, Harry packed his trunk, secured Hedwig in her cage, tucked Iscariot's letter safely in his jacket pocket, and waited until everyone was sound asleep.

Attempting to get his trunk down the stairs quietly was practically a lost cause. Each step caused a loud, hallow '_thunk'_ sound, after which Harry would pause to make sure that no one had awoken or began to stir in their beds before he braved another stride. Once securely on the lower floor, he left a scribbled note on the hallway table saying that he was going to his friend's home for the rest of the summer and that he would see them again after the next school term; it wasn't as if they would have missed him anyway. Lord forbid that the Dursleys have to make their own breakfast…

Once on the street and halfway down Private Drive, he realized that his original plan to take the Knight Bus was slightly flawed. When he had called it to him three years earlier, it hadn't been on purpose. He wasn't even sure if he would be able to call it again. Reaching the community park at the end of the street, he stood his trolley on the curb and withdrew his wand from his waistband. Not even wanting to chance casting 'Lumos' in case it counted as underage wizardry, he simply held it up in the air.

For a short time nothing happened, and he felt exceedingly stupid standing there with his hand up as if he were Hermione during a class. But sure enough, to his surprise, there was a nearly invisible violet blur speeding toward him after a minute or two. Harry tried to keep his balance this time seeing as during the last occurrence of this kind, Stan had found him sprawled on the ground and quite confused. However, when Stan appeared this time, it was with an air of recognition. "Oi, Ernie, lookit who called," he said to the driver with a smirk. "Neville, wasn't it?" It seemed Stan had remembered Harry's effort to have his true identity unknown throughout their previous encounter.

Harry smiled and nodded. "Sure," he agreed with a chuckle. "How are you, Stan?"

"Alright as it gets. How 'bout you, Harry?"

"Fine, I suppose."

"Hey, Stanley," called the shrunken head from the rear-view mirror. "Care to hurry up? Ernie's falling asleep!"

"Oh, right," muttered Harry, stepping in past Stanley and claiming a seat, while the other brought in his trunk and Hedwig's cage.

"Where to, then, Potter?"

"Um, the Burrow, please," he answered, not quite sure where exactly the Burrow was. 'I should really keep some floo powder at the Dursley's,' he thought to himself resolutely.

The bus shot off immediately and Harry clung to the four-posters of the bed, desperately trying not to be the next bug that splattered on their windshield. It was beyond his comprehension as to how others had the ability to actually _sleep_ on this thing. Nevertheless, it was the only way Harry knew how to get anywhere with a trunk and his minimal resources.

The bus arrived at the end of the dirt road leading to the Burrow around one in the morning. He thanked Stan and headed off down the road, lugging his things on the trolley behind him. Fifteen minutes later, he arrived at the only wizarding home he knew. There was only a faint light in the kitchen window; the rest of them were dark. It was then when Harry realized that appearing at someone else's home at an ungodly hour when unexpected was probably not the most polite course of action. At the same time, he figured that Mrs. Weasley would probably scold him if he stayed outside for the rest of the night.

Deciding to see if perhaps someone was awake, he went around the house and knocked tentatively on the back door. Thanking his stars, he heard a light shuffling sound behind the door and soon there was a shy-looking Hermione Granger peeking out through a crack in the door.

"Oh, Harry. It's just you," she said softly, fatigue interlacing her voice. She opened the door the rest of the way and allowed him to come inside.

"Thanks," his whispered as he crossed over the threshold. "Why are you still awake?"

"Why are _you_ here at such a late hour?" she asked, returning his curious gaze. Harry smiled at his dear friend and received one back. "I'm sorry. I just haven't been able to sleep very well recently," she said, shaking her head dejectedly and reclaiming her seat at the kitchen table.

Harry sat across from her, fiddling with the corners of the folded letter in his pocket. "How come?" he questioned considerately, or at least, what he thought was considerately.

She chuckled lightly to herself. "Now, if I only knew…"

"Nervous?"

"About what?"

"I heard that you and Ron had a date or something coming up."

"Oh," she said slowly, resting her elbows on the table and rubbing her forehead as if she had a headache. "Don't remind me. That's all anyone is talking about right now. You should hear Ginny."

"She's giving you dating tips, too, huh?"

"Worse. She's giving me pep talks and warning me not to do anything she wouldn't approve of. And the rest of the house won't stop talking about it either. It's insane," she moaned, rubbing her eyes with both hands.

Harry smirked and shook his head. "Unbelievable. Actually, no, it's quite believable," he joked, earning a small laugh from the girl.

She rested her chin in her palm and looked at Harry's jacket pocket with renewed curiosity. "What do you have there?"

"Huh?" Harry glanced down at where his hands lingered in his pocket, and realized that he was unfolding and refolding Judas' letter unconsciously. "Oh, yeah. I meant to show you this to see what you thought about it." Pulling it out, unfolding it, and handing it to the witch, he waited patiently as she read through it.

When she was done, she laid it down on the table in front of her. "Judas Iscariot?"

"Do you know her?"

"No," she glanced up at Harry and then back to the letter. "But I know _him_."

"_Him_?" Harry asked, wide-eyed and blinking. It didn't even register that this may have been a male admirer.

"Well, not personally, of course. I've read about him."

"Who is he?"

"Judas Iscariot is the name of the man who deceived Jesus Christ in the muggle Bible," she explained curtly. "He basically caused his own Savior's death, not that Jesus hadn't known that it would happen from the beginning. But still…"

Harry watched her incredulously. "So what does that mean?"

"I don't know," she admitted with a sigh. "The Savior connection is a little strange, though." When Harry didn't say anything, she continued. "Christ was the savior of all man kind, supposedly. You, according to prophecy, are the savior of the wizarding world. It's an odd connection. It's almost as if they are implying that they are a danger to you. Highly unusual for a secret admirer to suggest, don't you think?" Hermione yawned and stood from her chair. She doubled up the parchment and handed it back to Harry. "You're to stay in Fred and George's old bedroom. They live in the apartment over their store now. And I'd advise you to not go digging through the boxes in there. One of they're old trick scopes punched me last week. It took forever to make my black eye go away. Good night."

With that, Hermione retired up the stairs, most likely headed for Ginny's bedroom where she herself was staying. Harry, quite confused with new ideas of who this Iscariot person was, distractedly dragged his trunk up the stairs and to the twins' old room. Most of the floor was cluttered with cardboard boxes that Harry would have found rather intriguing if he wasn't so tired and perplexed. He instead collapsed onto one of the beds and fell instantly asleep.

AN/ Yay, Chapter One finished. So this is going to be the replacement of Half-Blood Prince since it had totally destroyed Draco and I hate that. And, well, yeah… Thanks for reading!


	2. Judas in Diagon Alley

Year 6: Harry Potter and the Secret Letters

Chapter Two: Judas in Diagon Alley

A sixteen-year-old Draco was sitting up late again as he waited for his father to return from yet another Death-Eater meeting with Voldemort. It seemed that the Snake Lord had been planning an assignment for the young follower to fulfill, and Draco was nothing less than nervous and, admittedly, scared. The last thing he needed was to be ordered to torture someone to prove his faithfulness. He had some other, more personal and important, business that he was trying to take care of.

At that moment, his "business" came rapping at his window as he looked up to see Aristotle hovering outside. Checking his watch, he rolled his eyes at his owl's impeccably late timing. What if he had been asleep? Allowing the bird entrance into his room, he quickly noticed the plain parchment and leather binding that was nothing more than what he expected from the inexperienced Gryffindor. He released the insufferable bird from its burden and preceded to undo the tie and read the short letter.

He glared at his owl momentarily. "You _bit_ him?" With a frustrated sigh, he returned to the letter.

Draco decided that he should write a return letter as soon as possible, but right then, hiding the letter so that his father didn't locate it was a rather keen idea.

Just then, a distant popping sound was heard coming from outside Malfoy Manor. His father had arrived home, and in a few minutes, Lucius Malfoy was stepping into Draco's bedroom.

With the letter hidden neatly under Aristotle's cage, Draco faced his father with a courageous façade. "What did the Dark Lord say?"

"His plans for you are… nearly impossible. But you must complete the Dark Lord's commands, understood?"

"Yes, father," answered Draco, trying desperately to refrain form scowling at his forced priorities.

"You will not ask questions or be doubtful of the Lord's decisions."

"Yes, father."

"You will perform your duty to the Dark Lord without hesitation."

"Yes, father."

"You will not fail."

"Yes, father."

"And when you complete your orders, you will come here until the next Death-Eater meeting."

"Yes, father."

"Good…" Lucius gazed sternly down at his son. As long as he had anything to say in the matter, he would make sure that Draco succeeded in his task. The next few hours were spent with Lucius explaining what was to occur, and Draco nodding stoically in silent comprehension.

XXXXXXXXXX

Daylight streamed right through the window to land directly on Harry's pillow. Cringing slightly at the rude disturbance of his sleep, he unconsciously rolled onto his side and pulled the covers over his head. Slowly, as his mind began to register his surroundings and the fact that Aunt Petunia hadn't slammed on his door yet, the sounds of the Weasley family's interactions floated up to him from downstairs.

The growing sounds of footsteps traveled to his ears, and he reluctantly sat up in time for Ron to run into his room.

"Bloody Hell! 'Mione just told us that you were here! When did you arrive?" blurted out Ronald Weasley as he flopped on the foot of Harry's bed.

Blindly finding his glasses on the nightstand, he turned to Ron to try to get his half-awake brain back into gear. " Um… Late last night?"

"He means early this morning," came a voice from the doorway. Hermione had entered carrying a tray of food for breakfast, which she soon laid on the now bare nightstand.

Ron watched her as if she was participating in the biggest scandal since Rita Skeeter's 'capture.' "Breakfast in bed! You don't bring _me_ breakfast in bed!"

"Yes, well you also didn't live with the Dursley's for the past two months and arrive at one o'clock this morning after a bumpy Knight Bus ride, either," she said, sitting on a cardboard box next to the bed.

Harry chuckled slightly at Ron's lack of response and deflated features. "So how have you both been doing? When did _you_ get here, Hermione?"

"About a week ago. It's been rather crazy over here due to everything, but you came right in time! We were planning to go to Diagon Alley today. You're feeling up to it, right?" she asked hesitantly.

Harry looked at her like she lost one too many marbles. "Yeah, I'm fine, Hermione. Why wouldn't I be?" Here, his two best friends shared a knowing glance, but didn't say anything. "Okay, before I ask what the hell is going on, wasn't it _you_ who couldn't sleep last night?" he asked the girl.

Hermione blushed terribly and tried not to look at Ron who was doing everything that he could _to_ look at her. "Wait! You can't sleep? Is that why you've been acting all weird lately? What's wrong? Why didn't you tell me?" the boy rambled.

"Please! Be quiet, Ron! I'm fine," reassured the girl as she stood from her seat. She turned to Harry with a 'Gee, thanks' look before continuing. "You should get ready. We'll be leaving in an hour. And don't forget to eat breakfast." With that, she left.

Ron gazed at Harry in total loss. "What was that all about?" Harry could only shrug and put off his questions until later.

An hour later, Arthur, Molly, Ginny, Ron, Bill, Harry, and Hermione were all standing in front of the Weasley's fireplace, each carrying a bag or backpack. One by one, each person entered with a fistful of floo powder and shouted "The Leaky Cauldron." It took a short while to get all seven members of their party safely to the London pub, but once there, they started off down Diagon Alley. It was a rather depressing sight, really. More than half of the shops were closed or boarded up, including Eelops owloporium, Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, and Madame Malkin's Robes for all Occasions. Even Ollivaner's seemed vacated. The attack that Voldemort made on the ministry last year had finally made the people believe in his resurrection, much to the annoyance of Harry. It took them five years to finally trust him. Even the thought of it made him irritable, so he pushed the idea into the back of his mind.

Thinking it best to stop at Gringotts' Wizarding Bank to retrieve the spending money required, the family and guests made it into the marble building. Upon entrance, Harry heard Ron mumble something about it being worse than a library, which earned a stern glance from the ginger-haired girl. The goblins seemed even more unkind than usual, which was definitely saying something. Much to everyone's surprise, due to Bill's ministry connections, he had already withdrawn the necessary amounts and had only needed to retrieve it from one particular creature that was even unfriendlier than the others. Needless to say, the party withdrew from the lopsided building as quickly as possible.

"Would you all like to get your school supplies before visiting Fred and George's shop?" Molly asked futilely. It didn't matter what the responses from the teens were because she soon ushered Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione to Madame Malkin's Robe shop whilst the others three collected all of their books. The four students approached the store hesitantly. As boarded up as the windows were, the door was unlocked and they peeked inside. Voices were coming from the back fitting room: two women and a boy. As Harry opened the door fully to allow them entrance, an enchanted bell rang to announce them and call for Madame Malkin.

"This is _not_ the material that I asked for," came the very stern voice of a woman.

"It's fine, mother. They're not dress robes. They're just for school. Who even knows how long I'll _be_ there?" said the boy pointedly.

"Well, ma'am, if you want to choose the correct material from the fabrics on the wall, I'd be more than happy to change it for you. While you do so, I must check on my other customers. Stepping out into the main shop, Madame Malkin appeared before the four, seemingly very flustered and losing her patience. "Hello, dears. New school robes, I suspect? All of you? Very well then. Why don't you go to the Room Three, and my assistant will be right with you," she said, indicating the back hallway to Ginny. "You may go to Room Two, dear."

Ron left and Madame Malkin asked Harry and Hermione to please wait a few minutes until the other room was open. Just then, a fragile-looking blonde woman exited Fitting Room One carrying a large piece of green cloth on her arm. "Do you, or do you not, have the number 43 shade of emerald that I had ordered?" she asked irritably. Then a sixteen-year-old boy, nearly the size of his mother, appeared in the doorway.

Draco, having already found his mother's presence rather exasperating, was embarrassed beyond belief. "Please, mother! The color is _fine_! _Merlin_! It's not even that _important_!" What was even more bothersome than his mother was the letter that he had up his left sleeve. Literally. It was hard enough to conceal it from his mother beneath his white button-up top. He hadn't planned to have a robe fitting. And that Malkin woman was almost doing everything that she could to rat him out, unintentional as it may be. "It's green. That's good enough," he said to his mother in a tome that surely meant that the discussion had been terminated and he won.

Draco sent Madame Malkin a somewhat apologetic look, and to his horror, spotted Harry and Hermione standing behind her. Struggling to replace his surprised features with a snide façade, he simply could not believe that Harry had overheard Draco actually acting _somewhat_ civil! If Harry even got the slightest _hint_ of what the blonde was up to, everything would be ruined. He scowled characteristically at the two Gryffindors as Narcissa told Madame Malkin to just hurry up and finish the robes.

The storeowner went back to work without even ushering them back into their fitting room. "I think this left sleeve could come up a little bit more, dear, just let me—"

"Ah!" Malfoy slapped Malkin's hand away before she could reveal his letter to both his mother _and_ Harry. Thinking as fast as he could, he continued. "Ouch! Watch where you're putting your pins, woman! Mother— I assure you that I can endure this alone. If you're so insistent about getting out of Diagon Alley, then why don't you get my books while she finishes tacking these clothes to my skin?" he suggested, sending Malkin a momentary glare.

Narcissa was a little distracted with eying Hermione critically. "Are you sure you want your robes from here? I'm sure such 'scum' doesn't shop at Twilfitt and Tatting's," pointed out the woman, putting a strange emphasis on the Mudblood insult.

"Please, mother. It's not like she _touched_ them."

Harry pulled out his wand in defense of Hermione, who was telling him fervently to stop and that it wasn't worth it. Harry was too curious about Draco's left arm to avenge the insult instantly, anyways.

"That's quite enough!" said Madame Malkin sharply, looking between the boys expectantly. "Wand away, please."

"Mother, get my books," Draco practically ordered, not taking his glaring eyes off of Harry's wand.

"And leave you in the company of this filth? Absolutely not!"

Draco turned sharply to his mother and sent her one of his trademark 'For-Harry-Potter-Only' glares. "Get them," he ordered decisively before entering the fitting room again and slamming the door in his mother's stoic face.

"Narcissa drew a deep, calming breath and turned to the shop owner. "I will return in fifteen minutes and I expect my son's to be done." She then strode out of the door, her straight platinum hair floating past the two students lightly.

Malkin returned to Room One with a very frustrated demeanor. "Wand away," she repeated to Harry as he let his arm fall to his side.

A few minutes passed in silence before Draco exited the room once again.

"I really don't think you should leave until your mother returns," said the woman helplessly.

"Just mind your own business and have my robes ready by the time she gets back. If you don't, then that's your own neck." As Draco reached Harry, he could only stare. The Gryffindor was matching his gaze with interest. "See you at school, Potter."

"See you, Malfoy…"

With that, Draco brushed by the other boy and left the shop.

"Well, _really_," exclaimed the woman bitterly while she hung the freshly measured, dark green robe on a nearby rack. With a sigh, she motioned for Hermione to enter the now vacant room.

The girl caught Harry's distracted gaze and looked at him questioningly. Harry nodded to her and waited until the both females were inside the room before pulling his invisibility cloak out of his backpack and over his head. He'd have to explain to Hermione later why he was doing this, but for some reason, Draco was acting stranger than usual and Harry knew he was too curious to stay behind. He stepped out of the shop and glanced up and down the vacant street for the blonde boy. Picking a direction at random, he figured that the Slytherin couldn't be too far away and that they would come across each other soon enough.

XXXXXXXXXX

After collecting Aristotle from an abandoned perch outside of Eelops Owloporium, Draco took the letter from his sleeve and jotted down a last sentence without bothering with the green ink. He hurriedly tied his new letter to the owl's leg with another strand of green ribbon, which he took from his pocket, and began scolding the bird. "Just go straight to him. He should be in Malkin's Robes, or at least somewhere nearby. Do not bite, squawk, or hiss at him. That is _absolutely_ unacceptable. And when you're finished, come straight back here to the Owloporium. Understood?" Draco mentally smacked himself for sounding so much like his father and then sent the bird on his way.

However, as soon as the bird was airborne, Draco noticed that it was flying in the complete opposite direction as the robe shop. Aristotle turned a corner and was out of sight. Draco followed, fully prepared to pull the owl away from any mouse that may have distracted him. But as he neared, he could hear the swishing of a cloak and an all too familiar voice. "Aristotle?" he heard Harry ask. Peeking around the corner as inconspicuously as possible, he watched as his owl landed on the other's arm and stuck out its leg impatiently. Obviously, the task of have to deliver a letter to someone just around the corner greatly annoyed him. 'Insufferable bird…"

Harry, meanwhile, was a little stunned. How awkward to be interrupted in his search for Malfoy by a letter from his secret admirer. Or Judas, he should say. "Judas…" Harry whispered to himself curiously before reality dawned and he began to untie the letter from the fidgety bird. As soon as he was done, Aristotle leapt up into the air and flew right over Draco's head on his way back to his perch. Luckily, Harry didn't even notice the blonde watching. His attention was strictly on the scroll in his hands. He fingered the ribbon distantly as he thought over the situation. Unbeknownst of Draco, Harry was actually having a rather hard time deciding whether to read the letter now, or continue to look for Malfoy and read the letter over with Hermione once they were back at the Burrow…

Well… the letter was kind of a private thing… He would rather read it first before he let the girl see anything that was written on the parchment, lest there was something that he didn't want her to see. Doubtful though that may be, he decided to read it now anyways. Unrolling it, Harry noticed that apart from the same ribbon, Judas had also written in his emerald ink… except for the last sentence, which was scrawled in ordinary black. It read:

Dear Harry,

Although I am not personally ogled at in the corridors, I understand that it can be rather annoying. An I am certainly glad the you are interested in speaking to me. I apologize for the bite that Aristotle gave you. I punished him accordingly, which pretty much means that I scolded him, and hopefully it will never happen again. As for his long flight, I actually live in a town just a short way out of London. However, I was on a trip when I sent you your letter. Not to mention that I wasn't quite sure where you lived, either. So I just had to trust that Aristotle would find you.

So, since you wrote back saying that you would like to hear from me, I assume that means that you will stay in touch at Hogwarts. Speaking of school, have you heard about our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Someone named Toadseye, Darnay Toadseye (1). He seems to be a real piece of work. Another person from the ministry supposedly. Wonder if he'll be as bad as Umbridge, or worse, Lockhart… Of course, that phony wasn't from the ministry, thank Merlin! We all would have been forced to bow to him rather than stand against the Dark Lord. Could you imagine if he was Minister of Magic or something? We'd all die! Haha!

Anyways, I need to keep Aristotle with me for right now. But if you use your owl, she should find me. Yes, I know who Hedwig is. Everyone at Hogwarts knows your bloody bird. So, I hope to hear from you soon.

Signed,

Judas

Harry was still chuckling to himself about the image of Gilderoy Lockhart as Minister of Magic when he finished reading his letter. For some reason, Harry enjoyed this letter much more than the first. Perhaps it was because this one was a lot less personal than the other, or the fact that it made him laugh, or because he found out something about this boy. Judas hated Lockhart and Umbridge just as much as he did, and it sounds like he wants to stand against the Dark Lord. Brilliant! Two things that Harry knew they had in common!

Beneath his signature, Judas had written 'And you're welcome for the ribbons; just don't say thank you every time you receive one…' A few spaces down from that, and quite far away from the rest of the letter, in that scribbled black ink was written:

I didn't know that you were going to be in Diagon Alley today!

Harry froze and blinked at this statement. "He's _here_!" he whispered. Turning around in hope to catch sight of Aristotle or this 'Judas' person, he found the street was vacant and the bird had long ago left. Utterly confused about what to do next, Harry decided that he had lost track of Malfoy and that he better go back to the robe shop so that he wasn't gone when Mr. And Mrs. Weasley returned from Flourish and Blotts. He turned on his heel and headed back down the street in the opposite direction from where Draco was standing. After Harry was out of sight, the Slytherin took a step back and rested against the wall of whatever store he had been peeking around. A sigh of relief escaped his lips and he slumped his shoulder tiredly. Resting his head back against the cool brick, he blinked up at the dim sky. It seemed that the gloominess of Diagon Alley was reflected in the heavens above. How could fear of the Dark Lord affect even the weather?

Although his mind processed this strange question, he couldn't reflect on it due to a small smile that was creeping over his features. Harry had actually been _anxious_ to read his letter. What's even better is that Draco had made the other boy laugh, too! Brilliant! Two things that Draco knew meant that he was doing well!

(1) – Please understand that I only named him this to tease J.K. Rowling about her naming talents… (e.g. Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, Hog's Head, Slug Horn, etc etc)


	3. Draco's First Little Secret

Warning: Minor Fred x George hinting… very minor, but 'warning' worthy anyway… And also minor Ginny Bashing...

Year 6: Harry Potter and the Secret Letters

Chapter Three: Draco's First Little Secret 

The group was now on their way to the much-anticipated Weasley Wizard Wheezes. When Hermione had joined Harry, Ron, and Ginny after her fitting, she gazed at her scarred friend expectantly, but neither said a word. After visiting Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, the Weasleys led them to the apothecary and Eelops, which amused Harry greatly considering that he had been nearby the owlporium earlier that day, unbeknownst to the rest of the party.

The arrival at Fred and George's shop was, to say the least, hard to miss. While all of the other stores in Diagon Alley had boarded up windows and purple ministry posters, Wizard Wheezes' were displaying loads of Whizzing Witches' Hats, Pigmy Puffs, remodeled Dung Bombs, Popping Poppers, Skiving Snack Boxes, and a reusable hangman.

Mrs. Weasley stared at the shop in disbelief. Wizard Wheezes stuck out like a sore thumb against the other stores. "They're going to die…" she murmured, recognizing this as an easy target for Lord Voldemort to hit.

"No, they're not," exclaimed Ron. "This is brilliant!" He raced towards the door, leading the three other anxious teens into the twins' store. The adults lingered momentarily and then decided it best to follow.

When Ron's round, red head peeked through the door, all he could see were the bright colors of the walls and merchandise, and the grays and blacks of the customers' robes. Harry opened the door the rest of the way and they all squeezed inside. The twins seemed to have more business than Honeydukes and Zonko's combined. Their shop had three rooms, one of which was the back storage room. However, within the two rooms that one _was_ allowed into, there were jokes, tricks, bobbles, and things that Harry could only _assume_ one was supposed to digest, as far as the eye can see (which happened to be only about two feet ahead of you due to the large amount of people).

Ginny was immediately drawn to the Pigmy Puffs in the window, and Mrs. Weasley went straight to the front desk to ask the slightly timid girl if she may please see her sons. Hermione was eyeing a barrel of what looked like a 'Daydream-in-a-Box,' while Harry and Ron were strongly contemplating purchasing a Self-Inking, Spell-Checking, or Smart-Answer quill.

"Mr. And Mr. Weasley? You're family is here to see you," the shy clerk called into the back room.

Soon, two bumbling redheads bounded up to their mother joyously. "I swear, whenever she calls us like that, it sounds like we're married," Fred said with a chuckle.

Hermione looked at them curiously. "It doesn't seem like the idea bothers you much," she noted, earning a synchronized shrug from the two. "What are these," she asked, indicating the boxes.

"Patented Daydream Charms. A thirty-minute, highly realistic daydream in one simple incantation," beamed George.

The girl blinked in slight awe. "You know, that really is extraordinary magic!"

"For that, Hermione, you can have one for free," Fred offered with a grin.

Behind them, Harry was still fingering a Self-Inking quill. "These could really be handy for writing to Judas," he whispered to himself.

"Who's Judas?" asked Ron casually, having been close enough to Harry to hear the comment. At the sound of the secret admirer's name, the ginger-haired witch turned to them and frowned slightly.

"I'll tell you once we're back at the Burrow," he whispered to his best friend, and Ron understood that it was another secret that he would be trusted with. The redhead nodded as George approached them.

"Come on, Harry. I want to show you what we're creating in the back." He said, motioning for the scarred boy to follow.

"What? Only Harry? Why can't I come? I'm your brother, aren't I?" whined Ron pathetically. At this, Fred appeared at his twin's side.

"Now, that's a very good question, Ron," remarked Fred.

"You look like us," added George, pointing out the sixth year's red hair.

"But you're certainly not as clever," they said. Hermione scoffed, smiled, and chuckled to herself at the boys.

"What are _you_ laughing at?" asked Ron irritably.

"Nothing, nothing," she reassured before laughing again. "It's just… they have a point, Ronald."

Harry tried to hide his grin, to no avail. The look on Ron's face was absolutely priceless! It was as if everyone he knew had just backstabbed him. "Aren't you supposed to be my girlfriend, or something? How can you agree with them?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, Ronald. I am your girlfriend, 'or something.' But that doesn't mean that I am always going to stand up for you. You know, more often then not, You're wrong… about practically everything…"

Fred and George laughed merrily at their brother's expense. It was almost more amusing to watch someone else tease the Gryffindor Keeper… _almost_…

Harry finally chose a quill with silver ink. It was strange to write in black when Judas' letters were so elaborate. It took him quite some time to choose a color, but he was reminded of Aristotle's odd eyes. Silver would have to do until further knowledge of Judas was acquired. "Hey, George! About how long do these quills last?"

"Just about 500,000 words."

"Brilliant…" he whispered to himself, as Fred, George, Ron, and Hermione continued to bicker.

The same woman from behind the counter approached the twins and mentioned something about a customer who was looking for a joke cauldron. Fred left to go assist the lost first-year, while George made his way over to Ginny to discuss what sounded like boyfriends.

The Gryffindor Trio, finally left alone, drew aside near the door to the back room and began to speak in low voices.

"Guess who we met in the robe shop," Harry said to Ron.

"Who?"

"Malfoy and his mother," responded Hermione. The two alternated in retelling the incidents from earlier that day.

"What happened after he left?" asked the redhead, thoroughly disappointed that he missed such an unlikely event.

Hermione glanced at Harry with a slight frown on her face. "I don't know. Harry went after him, but…"

Harry shook his head lightly. "I lost him I was too far behind at the start to catch up. Not to mention, I got a little distracted. Judas sent me another letter."

Ron looked pained. "Bloody Hell! Will someone _please_ tell me who this Judas person is!"

"Judas is Harry's Secret Admirer," stated Hermione bitterly.

"Fan mail?" Ron asked.

"No," came a frustrated response from the scarred boy. "This is different… I think… Here, look!" Handing Hermione the new scroll, which had been folded in his pocket, and waited for them to finish reading. It was quite easy to tell when they reached the end because Ron was trying to hold back laughter and the girl was wearing a face of disbelief.

"That goon! Minister of Magic!" The boy finally allowed a small chuckle to escape his lips before covering them with his hands to prevent it from happening a second time.

"The magical world would collapse…" mumbled the ginger-haired teen.

"We'd go to the dogs," assured Harry, grinning cockily. "See? He's a great guy and I think that he—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait just one second here! Judas is a guy!" questioned the redhead.

"I didn't think it was either, at first. But look at the way he speaks. It's not like any of the other letters!"

Ron glanced over the parchment for a second time and shrugged. "Okay, so it's a guy… You don't find it even the least bit creepy that you have a male admirer? I mean, you're not gay," stated the boy. He paused for a second, and then sent Harry a scurrilous glance. "Are you!"

"No," came yet another frustrated response. "But as a friend, Judas seems—" Harry cut off his own sentence as something caught his eye. He had glanced over at George and Ginny to make sure that that no one had been listening in on their conversation, and instead saw Draco Malfoy passing the window. The blonde checked behind him before scurrying out of sight. Harry grabbed his friends and pulled them into the back room. Taking the invisibility cloak out of his bag, he motions for his friends to get under it

"Oh, Harry… I don't know—" started Hermione, thinking about the nervousness of everyone about the Dark Lord's return. Suddenly going missing certainly would not help anything.

"Come on," encouraged Ron as he pulled the girl beneath the cloth alongside him. Harry assumed that the redhead was only truly anxious to go because he missed out earlier. The Gryffindor Seeker didn't care much however, just as long as they made their way after Malfoy. Leading them through the back door and around to the main street, Harry pointed to the right. "He was heading in that direction," he said, and led them onwards.

As they hurried along, the girl asked, "Harry, didn't you go after him earlier? I mean, what are expecting to find that has you so interested?"

"Didn't you notice?" panted the other as he peeked into store windows as they passed them. "He favored his left arm. When Madame Malkin tried to raise his sleeve, he slapped her away, saying that her pin had pricked him. But her pin was in her other hand. It hadn't even gone near him!"

"What's your point?" added Ron.

"He means the Dark Mark, Ronald."

"Exactly! With a Death-Eater's son, especially one like Malfoy, one would only _assume_ that they would turn to the Dark Side, as well. Why else would he hide his left arm like that?"

"But don't you think that's jumping to conclusions?" asked the girl.

No," answered Ron for his friend. "I see Harry's point. That is pretty suspicious."

"You're just agreeing with him because I agreed with your brothers about your dimwittedness," remarked Hermione dryly.

"I am not!"

"Look," called the girl, pointing ahead of them. "Isn't that Malfoy? Turning left?"

"Big surprise," responded her boyfriend. Draco had just turned into Diagon Alley.

"Quick, or we'll lose him," said Harry, speeding up. His friends exchanged an uncertain glance, but kept up with the other, trying desperately to avoid their feet being seen.

XXXXXXXXXX

Draco made his way down the street, not pausing to look at the interesting artifacts that lingered in the window displays. He went directly to the familiar Dark Arts store, Borgin and Burkes. Upon entrance, he calmed down slightly, having escaped from plain sight and general discovery. He did _not_ need his mother finding him here of all places. Gazing curiously at the merchandise, he found the black cabinet that signified the entire reason that he had come. He heard a creaking sound behind him and whipped around to discover Borgin standing at the counter.

"You're Malfoy's son, aren't you?" he asked, angry features printed across his face.

"That's right," agreed Draco grimly. "My father says that you will be able to assist me."

"Assist you how?"

"I have a transport object that needs repair. I believe that you have its second, as well."

"Hn," groaned the other. "Your father says that I'll know how to help?"

"He says that you better. He's not someone who takes no for an answer," he replied, taking a piece of parchment out of his pocket. "But I'm sure that you already knew that, didn't you, Borgin?"

The oily-haired man looked slightly unnerved at the thought of Lucius Malfoy and all of his Death-Eater friends inside of his shop. "What exactly _is_ the item, Master Malfoy?"

Draco smirked at the new name in order to hide his grimace. That title reminded him of his father, and he sure as hell was _not_ his father! "It's a form of transport cabinet," explained Draco, pointing to the black cabinet behind him. "I'm not sure exactly what it is…"

"Hn," replied the other once again. Unbeknownst to the both of them, three Extendable Ears were being slid under the door by an invisible Gryffindor Trio.

"So you know how to fix it, then?"

"Possibly," said Borgin, quite unwilling to commit himself. "I'll need to see it, though. Why don't you bring it to the shop?"

"I can't. It's got to stay put," argued Draco frustratingly. It was bad enough that he didn't like being in Knockturn Alley; he certainly didn't want to stay any longer than he had to. Not to mention that Lucius had said that Borgin would listen if the Death-Eater's name was referred to, and so far that hadn't worked. Luckily, he had brought something as back up. "I just need you to tell me how to fix it," insisted Draco for the last time.

"Well, without seeing it, I must say that it will be a difficult job. I couldn't guarantee anything."

"No?" sneered Draco. "Perhaps this will make you more confident." He moved towards Borgin, handing him the letter that was in his left hand. Unfortunately, Draco had stepped behind the cabinet in question and was blocked from the Gryffindors' view. They couldn't see the letter, just the movement of Draco's arm and the look of mild terror on Borgin's face. This only served as a clue in Harry's mind to prove that Malfoy truly was branded with the Dark Mark. Such things could not add up to anything else in the Seeker's head.

When Lucius had given the parchment to Draco, it had already been sealed so he was not able to read it. Lucius had told his son to give it to the store owner if there were any… doubts. Whatever was on the letter, it was working. "Tell anyone," warned Draco, indicating the cabinet that his father had brought in some time ago, "and the will be retribution. YOU know Fenrir Greyback? He's a family friend. He'll be dropping by from time to time to make sure that you are giving the problem your full attention."

"There will be no need for—"

"I will decide that," barked the blonde. Lesson One of the Malfoy Household: Malfoy's are always in charge. "Well, I'd better be off. And don't forget to keep _that_ one safe. I'll need it," he said, specifying the item's pair yet again.

"Perhaps you'd like to take it now?"

"No, of course I wouldn't, you stupid little man. How would I look carrying _that_ down the street? Just don't sell it," remarked Draco, rolling his eyes at the idea of strolling down Diagon Alley with the cabinet under his arm. He was sure his mother would just _love_ the idea.

"Of course not… sir," mumbled Borgin, bowing deeply. Obviously, Lucius had written something that made Borgin think twice about respecting the blonde.

"Not a word to anyone, Borgin. And that includes my mother, understood?"

"Naturally, naturally," he murmured again, bowing.

Draco scowled at the fact that a stooped, oily-haired man was bowing to him. It reminded him way too much like the Dark Lord. He turned on his heel and exited the shop, smiling faintly with relief to be out of that horrid place and on his way out of the back alley.

Now… only one more stop before he could go locate his mother. There was a certain… gift… that he had been meaning to buy.

XXXXXXXXXX

Thoroughly confused and without any idea of what they had just witnessed, Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed back to the Weasley Wizard Wheezes. Molly was already becoming frantic with her searching for them. They made their way to the storage room through the back door, hid the invisibility cloak in Harry's bag, and exited into the main shop. When Mrs. Weasley inquired on their whereabouts, they insisted that they had been in the back room the entire time and that the woman simply hadn't looked properly.

TBC…

AN/ Sorry that this was so late! I had quite a few typing issues. I've had this chapter finished for a little over a week, but the opportunity for me to type it up has been practically zero. I realize that it is short, but I have already started Chapter four and it seems promising.

Coming up in Chapter Four: Ron and Hermione's date has finally arrived, Harry will respond to Judas' letter, and Harry's birthday is right around the corner! Read and enjoy! I love you all!


	4. Failures and Inquiries

Warning: Mild Ginny bashing. Then again, if you're reading an H/D fic, that probably means that you dislike Ginny just as much as I do… So, I'm really not worried about it…

Year Six: Harry Potter and the Secret Letters

Chapter Four: Failures and Inquiries

"Now, are you _sure_ that you want to go today?"

"Mum, please! We've been planning this for two weeks now."

"Yes, I know, but… oh, never mind. Remember, stay in Hogsmeade; none of this 'sneaking off' business."

"Where would we sneak off to? The Shrieking Shack?!"

Mrs. Weasley stood straight, hands on her hips, and glared up at her son. "I don't want you to do anything foolish," she said, returning to straightening his clothes.

"We won't, okay?" assured Ron sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Today was when he and Hermione had planned their date, and his mother did not like the idea of letting two teenagers go to Hogsmeade alone, especially during the time of Voldemort's return. "Besides, I hear that they have ministry officials and aurors down in Hogsmeade."

"Well, if you run off, then there _won't_ be any officials; which brings me back to 'Stay in Hogsmeade.'"

Ron sighed loudly, earning a harder-than necessary tug on his denim jacket. Creaking was heard from the stairs and Hermione was seen on the landing. She was adorned with an old-fashioned white blouse and a loose, silken cerulean skirt.

Ron looked her up and down curiously. "What're you all dressed up for?"

"It's a date, Ronald. Most people try to appear fashionable on such an occasion," she said as she reached the bottom of the steps and joined Harry at the kitchen table, where he had been witchingly his best friend with amused eyes.

"Well, you look… nice, but it… it…"

"Makes _you_ look sloppy?" offered the girl, buttering a slice of toast patiently.

"Well… yeah."

"You should have worn slacks, then."

Harry shook his head slightly, grinning. A part of him wished that his friends would have gotten together sooner. Five years of witnessing their bickering would have brought him much more amusement then he truly experienced.

"Maybe _you_ should have worn jeans, then," argued the redhead. "We're going to Hogsmeade, Hermione, not the Yule Ball."

"Oh, don't even get me started on the Yule Ball, Ronald. Come and eat breakfast so that we may leave." Taking a bite of her toast, she finished filling a plate with all of Ron's favorite breakfast foods and handed it to her boyfriend with a smile.

"So, where are you planning on going to in Hogsmeade?" Harry asked as Mrs. Weasley busied herself with preparing more food for the rest of the family.

"I dunno. Probably just the usual: The Three Broomsticks and Honeydukes," replied Ron, clearing his plate at a rather steady pace.

"Only because Ron doesn't have a single romantic bone in his body," added the girl, dabbing her mouth with a napkin and heading towards the fireplace.

"What?" moaned her boyfriend pathetically. As if it would clarify everything, he explained, "I'm gonna pay for the lot of it!" He placed his nearly empty dish on the dining table, taking his last slice of bacon with him, and joined the girl.

"Well, we better be off," she announced to Harry and Molly. While Mrs. Weasley crossed to room to hug them nearly to death, Harry thought that it would be much too awkward and so instead just spoke from his seat.

"Good luck," he wished.

"Thank you, Harry. We'll need it." Hermione came to hug him anyways, both smiling to themselves at the look on Ron's face.

"What do you mean, 'we'll need it?'" he asked. Hermione ignored him and approached the bowl of floo powder that Molly was holding. While his girlfriend's back was turned, he mouthed to Harry 'Wish me luck, too!' Harry held back his laughter with great effort. Two minutes later, both of his friends had disappeared through the fireplace, chanting 'The Three Broomsticks.' The Seeker sighed. Now… to figure out what to do with the rest of his day…

Ginny merrily trotted down the stairs a short time later, no doubt glad to be rid of all of her brothers for at least one morning. Harry knew that she didn't mind Bill that much because they never had to live together for numerous years due to the age difference, but even _he_ had gone back to the ministry for a few hours to check p on things there. The young teen took a seat across from the only present boy, while sporting a large grin. "Good morning, Harry!"

"G' Morning, Ginny," responded the scarred lad as he continued to nibble at the last of his breakfast in thought.

"Sleep well?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Fine, I guess." She gazed at the boy curiously, trying to contemplate a casual way for her to catch his attention. She sighed melodramatically, which did indeed cause Harry to glance up at her. "Ron and Hermione are so lucky. I wish I could go on a date like that."

"I thought that you were dating Michael, or Dean, or whoever."

She frowned deeply at the fact that the other didn't even know who it was that she was dating. Did Harry pay her no attention at all? "Yes, I am, but I mean a real date, where my parents approve and my friends see me off, wishing me luck. That would be so ideal." Luckily, Molly was out of earshot and so was able to say this without worry. She could only imagine what her friends would say if she told them that she was going on a date with _Harry Potter_. It, of course, would be all over the newspapers, and her friends would simply go crazy. Perhaps, if Harry quit being so dense, he will notice her and ask her out.

Instead, Harry shrugged and finished his juice nonchalantly. "The last time I dated someone, it didn't turn out so well. From now on, if I date someone, it will be because we are both seriously fond of each other." Harry didn't notice Ginny casually batting her eyelashes as he stood from his chair and stretched. "And as of right now, I haven't found anyone who fits that description."

Ginny nearly fell out of her chair 'Hellooo?! She's right _heerree_!' the girl thought to herself.

Harry stopped in his tracks and blinked thoughtfully to himself. "I feel like I'm forgetting something…" (1)

'Yeah! Me!' cried Ginny mentally.

"I'm going to check my Hogwarts letter. Maybe there was something that I didn't buy at Diagon Alley," he told himself, mostly overlooking the girl's presence as he patted down his pockets. There was a nagging feeling that he just couldn't shake. He headed up the stairs, leaving a frustrated Ginny at the table. Molly looked at her curiously as she came to collect the discarded dishes.

When he reached his bedroom, he dug out his Hogwarts letter and the bag containing all of his purchases from earlier that week. He sprawled out across his bed as he went through the checklist. "_Standard Book of Spells: Grade Six_ by Miranda Goshawk, _Advanced Potions Making_ by Arsenius Jigger, _Transfigurations of the Unlikely_ by Emeric Switch, _The Dark Forces: The Guide to Dark Offenses_ by Quentin Trimble, _Flesh-Eating Trees of the World_ by Phyllida Spore, One set of black work robes, Standard size 4 pewter cauldron, and… a quill?"

Harry nearly laughed as he pulled out the silver quill from his bag. His mind had been so wrapped up in what Malfoy had been doing that he had forgotten to write back to Judas. That's what the nagging feeling was (2). Laying the Self-Inking quill to the side, he continued check off his list as he pulled them out, and then flipped to the second page mostly due to study habits. The second sheet of the letter wasn't a supplies list at all; it was an invitation to be the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, which he had gladly accepted. Ron was nearly ecstatic as he ranted on about how great it would be, how they could talk about strategies together, and how he could finally be allowed back on the team… if Harry let him. Hermione was just excited that Harry was now on the same level as their Head Girl and Boy status. She had felt guilty about leaving Harry behind ever since they had received their invitations last summer.

Mrs. Weasley had made the 'Captain' patch magically embroider itself onto the front of his scarlet quidditch robes. The gold, interlocking letters 'QC' did gleam quite beautifully in contrast. Harry could remember admiring them when they had once adorned Oliver Wood's uniform.

Folding his Hogwarts letter, he began to replace everything back into his trunk. When he reached for the quill, he paused, and instead withdrew some parchment.

Giving the Self-Inking quill a hard shake, Harry saw the silver liquid bead up at the tip and he began writing.

Dear Judas,

I didn't know that you would be in Diagon Alley either. It was certainly a surprise to see Aristotle there. I wish that I could have at least seen you so that I could put a face with your name; but I suppose that's the entire purpose of these letters, isn't it? I hope one day we may meet, even if you don't tell me your true name. It seems strange that you know so much about me and I know next to nothing about you.

Tell me more about yourself. What's your favorite food? Color? Hobby? Which classes do you like most? Which teacher? Which concept? What Honeydukes candy do you always make sure to buy? What joke from Zonko's? Or would you rather shop at Weasley Wizard Wheezes? When's your birthday? Do you like butter beer? Quidditch? Hanging out with your friends? Or are you a loner? Tell me something… _anything_… I know more about _Aristotle_ than I do you. I'm writing in silver ink due to your owl's odd eye color. He's pretty much the only thing that I can relate to you.

It's pretty pathetic really.

As for school, I'll definitely be keeping in touch at Hogwarts. We could probably talk more frequently that way. And no, I have never heard of Professor Toadseye, but I would be greatly surprised if he was from the ministry. I wouldn't think that Dumbledore would accept a ministry member after last year's Umbridge. Although, you're right, Lockhart was almost worse. Speaking of Lockhart, have you heard where he is now? Probably some mental ward at Mungo's…

By the way, where did you take your trip? My best friend went to Egypt with his family a few years back. But then again, I'm sure you know who Ron is, right?

I'll send Hedwig to you tonight. I'm sure that she'll let you send your letter back with her if you wish.

Signed,

Harry

Rolling up the letter and tying it with leather binding to Hedwig's leg, Harry fed her a treat and carried her to the window. "Give this to Judas. I don't know where he is, but I'll trust you to find him. Okay? He's probably going to send a letter back to you, so be nice, alright?" Petting her head lightly, he opened the glass pane, held out the arm that Hedwig was perched on, and allowed her to nip at his hand lovingly before she flew away.

As Harry watched her fade with distance, he hoped that she would be able to locate his now frequent correspondent easily enough. He never even wrote to Hermione or Ron as often as he seemed to be writing to Judas. Now thinking about his friends, Harry checked his watch to find that they had been on their date for nearly two hours. Obviously, eating breakfast and writing to Judas took a little longer than he anticipated. He was secretly thankful for this though, seeing as he had no idea about when his friends might be back.

Collapsing back onto his bed out of boredom, he threw his arm over his eyes and laid in silence. Barely ten minutes later, Harry could hear muffled voices downstairs which he immediately recognized as the new couple, and he could tell that they were not too happy…

Cautiously opening his door and climbing step by step towards ground level, he was able to make out their quiet exclamations.

"You're so insensitive, Ron!"

"We were on a date! You don't think it's weird to be buying gifts for other friends while we're out together?"

"It was a birthday present! What other chance would we have had to get him one? His birthday's tomorrow."

"I know, but—"

"So, I'm guessing that it didn't go too well," interrupted Harry, stopping Ron from continuing his ranting.

"Oh! Harry! Umm…" mumbled Hermione, quite embarrassed. She tried to hide the bag, which no doubt held Harry's birthday present, behind her back. Ron rubbed the back of his hand nervously. Well, what did they expect? They knew Harry was in the house. If they continued to argue about him her, chances are that he would hear.

Harry almost felt obligated to apologize for ruining their date… almost. But it wasn't his fault, and he wasn't going to take responsibility for it. Instead, he made his way off of the landing and sat in a chair near the fireplace. Hermione quickly took a seat next to him, gazing questioningly at her friend. "I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean for you to hear—"

"Forget about it," he said, waving his hand dismissively and turning to Ron. "So did you enjoy it while it lasted?" His only response was a brief nod. It looked like Harry wasn't the only one who felt guilty about the failure of their date. "Good. Oh, by the way, I wrote back to Judas."

Well, that broke the ice. The girl's worried face turned to one of disapproval, and the redhead's interest seemed peaked.

"I really don't think that you should be writing to that person, Harry. For all you know, you could be writing to… Draco Malfoy, or V- Voldemort, or someone else just as horrid," suggested Hermione, stumbling over the Lord's name. She had been trying to say his name calmly for a while now.

"Oh yeah, because You-Know-Who would so go out of his way to write Harry saying how much he loves him," came Ron's sarcastic reply. He, on the other hand, was not even vaguely interested in conquering the vocalization of the Dark Lord's name. He still cringed when Hermione said it!

"Look, all I'm saying is that Harry has no idea who this 'Judas' person is. He could be opening up to anybody, which in the end may hurt him."

"I doubt that he would 'open up' to _anyone _so quickly, let alone an unknown person on the other end of a love letter. Harry knows what kind of danger he's in. He's not stupid, Hermione."

"I never said he was."

"Am I still part of this conversation?" asked Harry looking between his friends. Okay… perhaps five years of this bickering _wouldn't_ have brought him much pleasure. The two stopped quarrelling and watched their hands and feet as they waited for Harry to continue. "I wrote asking him to tell me more about himself. Hermione's right. I have no idea who it is that I'm talking to; but at the same time, I haven't 'opened up' to him at all, really. I haven't told him anything that he doesn't seem to already know. And trust me; he seems to know quite a bit."

"You're Harry Potter, for Merlin's sake. Who doesn't?" added Ron, rolling his eyes.

"_Exactly_. Everybody knows that I'm a sixth year Gryffindor at Hogwarts, that I've survived numerous attacks from Voldemort, and that I was telling the bloody truth when I said that He had returned," he said, counting off his fingers. Talking about this began to frustrate the scarred boy, and so he continued on back to Judas. "He obviously knows that I stand against Voldemort and that I, like everyone else at Hogwarts, _hated_ Lockhart and Umbridge."

"But not _everyone_ knows that your owl's name is Hedwig," defended the girl. "Or your exact eye color to match with the ink and ribbon. This person has to be closer to you than you think, and not necessarily in a good way. And why won't he tell you his real name? Don't you think that's suspicious?"

"A lot of people know that I have green eyes. I can't even _count_ the number of times that some one has told me that I look exactly like my father _except_ for my mother's eyes."

"And it wouldn't really be a 'secret admirer' letter if Harry knew their name, would it? If the person _is_ close to him, like you said, then Harry would know who it is as soon as he heard the name." As Ron finished his argument, Harry felt a surge of gratitude towards the other. He was suddenly thankful that he had Ron on his side.

"There's a saying which states to be close to your friends, but even closer to your enemies… I don't have a good feeling about all of this… not at all…" She sighed, her tone sliding down to normal as she realized that the boys were too thick to understand at the moment and the argument would have to wait until they were acting a bit more cooperative.

Ron sighed frustratingly, turning away from his girlfriend. Harry simply watched. Can't he even write a letter without everyone believing that it is a conspiracy to murder him? If nothing else, this 'discussion' only made the boys even _more_ stuck on talking to Judas. Hermione stood from her seat and headed towards the stairs, mumbling something about going to wrap Harry's present and not to enter Ginny's room so that he wouldn't see. Halfway to the landing, she was met by the bright eyes of the youngest Weasley. Molly was following close behind her, saying that dating was not a necessity in life and shouldn't be envied as such.

"Oh," she exclaimed when she saw Hermione and Ron. "Good, good! You are back early. Why didn't you tell me that you were home?"

Hermione brushed past her with a muttered 'excuse me' and disappeared up the steps.

"It didn't go well, then, I suspect?"

Ron shook his head, and Ginny glared at him before pursuing the other female to their bedroom.

"Well, things are never perfect. How about some hot chocolate to warm you both up?"

The boys sat at the dining table for the second time that day, now with a completely opposite attitude… Ron, angry and bitter… Harry, flustered and concerned…

No… it seemed nothing ever went perfectly…

TBC…

(1) – He's forgetting that there is a certain Judas character that he was not taking into account…

(2) – Resort back to (1), Lol!

AN/ OMG! I am SOOOO sorry that this was so late!!! I really am struggling to find the time to type these! It isn't even that long! Oh my gosh… I'm so sorry… But at the same time, Thank You!! All of you have given me such lovely, encouraging reviews which really help! Thank you very, _very_ much.

Coming in chapter five: Finally Harry's birthday is here! A surprise give has 'landed,' so to speak. And then off to the Hogwarts Express! Choo -Choo! Lol!


	5. Harry's Birthday Present

Harry Potter: And the Secret Letters

Chapter Five: Harry's Birthday Present\

Warnings: A tad Third Book hint. But I'm assuming that you all have read it so I don't mind much.

"Harry? Harry, wake up."

_Bloody blurry voices…_

"Blimey, Harry! It's nearly noon!"

"Ngh." _No! Sleep! Come back!_

"We have a present for you…"

"Hmm?" _A present? Merlin, I miss those… No! Wait! I still want to sleep!_

Fred and George decided, since the normal talking method wasn't working all that well, to instead draw their wands and point them at the dozing lad. "Aqua Erupto!" (5) they chanted in unison and a steady stream of water spouted from the tips and drenched the bed and everything in it.

"What the-?" Harry shot up from his sleeping position, soaked from head to toe and shaking his wet hair out of his face.

"Happy Birthday, Harry!" they chimed.

"Fred? George? Gee, what a _splendid_ way to wake someone up," came his sarcastic reply, the rude awakening making him irritable.

"Yeah! We thought so, too," exclaimed Fred proudly.

"Hey, maybe we should make some gag alarm to do that if you don't wake up to the chime," suggested George.

"An alarm?"

"Yeah, why not?"

Fred shrugged. "Sounds fun to me!"

"May I ask _why_ you woke me up early on a Saturday?" Harry interrupted.

"Firstly, it's not early. And in case you forgot-"

"-it _is_ your birthday, Harry."

The young Gryffindor rubbed his eyes tiredly and reached for his glasses on the nightstand. "Um, where are my glasses?"

Fred and George exchanged a smirk. "Perhaps they're downstairs."

_Downstairs…?_ "What the bloody Hell are you two scheming?" Climbing out of bed, drawing his wand to dry his clothes, and groggily remembering the correct spell to mumble, Harry stumbled over to what he believed was the general direction of the door. Assuming the brass-colored blob was the knob, he yanked it open just to trip on every other step on the way down the stairs. Once he reached ground level, all he could see were numerous different colors of robes and a smear of orange that was a tad bit taller than him. So, it seemed that all of the Weasleys were awake. "Has anyone seen my glasses?" Harry asked exasperatingly.

A brown, odd-shaped being bounded him to him. "Oh, Harry! You look absolutely stunning without them," exclaimed Hermione, half-teasingly and half-truthfully. She handed him the round spectacles and stepped away so that he may look around.

The immediate clarity provided by the corrective lenses was quite overwhelming. Not only was he surrounded by all of the Weasleys (1), but there were random paper broomsticks, hallow plastic snitches, and confetti buzzing around his head. Red and gold streamers were magically adhered to the ceiling and a banner displaying "Hey, Hey, Gryffindor" slowly dissolved into "Happy Birthday, Harry" as it floated in midair. On the dining table was a three layer cake that was decorated with the same phrases as the banner. Alongside it were numerous other treats, goodies, and snacks.

"What… What is all of this?"

"It's called a birthday party," answered Ron bemusedly. "I know you've never had one and all, but don't act so surprised."

"Wow," Harry whispered, catching one of the balls out of the air. "This is amazing…"

The Weasleys laughed merrily and began go about fooling about with the gags and games lying around the room. Harry exchanged hugs with his friends and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley before they dragged him over to a small table adorned with a small mound of gifts. Harry was nearly speechless with unspoken gratitude. This was sure to be his best birthday ever.

XXXXXXXXXX

Once three o'clock had rolled around, the festivities had receded slightly, the cake was nearly gone, and there was multi-colored wrapping paper littering the floor. Harry and Ron were in a heated match of Wizard's Chess on the new board and set that he and Hermione had purchased the previous day. Harry was still struggling to simply keep up with his best friend, let alone _beat_ him.

Ron looked up from the board with a smug grin. "Bishop to B7." Harry could only watch dumbly as the piece moved silently to stand diagonally to his trapped king. "Checkmate…"

Harry flopped back in his chair, defeated. "Bloody Hell! How did you become the master at this game?" he asked sarcastically, running a hand through his messy hair. "I didn't even _see_ it!"

"Hence why _I_ was in charge of the game in First Year," he gloated, keeping that incident beneath that third-floor corridor close to him as one of the few moments where he was able to shine.

They laughed together before Hermione's voice broke them up. "Who's that?"

The boys followed her gaze out of the kitchen window. A black owl was flying directly towards the house. Next to it was Hedwig. Each was carrying something or other. "Aristotle! Hedwig!" Harry called, jumping up out of his chair.

"Aristotle?" the others asked.

"Judas' owl," was his only response as he threw open the window to allow the birds entrance. As the two fluttered down gracefully onto the table, the attention of the rest of the family was drawn. It wasn't long until he was untying a letter off of Hedwig and Ron was trying to take a small, wrapped box from the other.

"Ow! It _bit_ me!" called out the redhead, sucking his finger gingerly.

"He bit me the first time he delivered a letter." Harry took over for his injured comrade and retrieved the square box with ease. He fed both owls some treats that were in a jar by the window before fingering the parcel carefully. It was black with that familiar green ribbon wrapped around it. Harry smiled somewhat fondly. Was the black to match his hair just as the green was to match his eyes (2)?

"Who's it from?"

"What's the letter say?"

"Open it, Harry!"

Numerous comments began to come from the Weasley Gallery (3) and the Gryffindor Seeker, needless to say, was feeling a little pressured.

With a sheepish grin, he murmured, "Um, uh, er, excuse me, will you?" He turned on his heel and retreated up the stairs to his bedroom, letter and gift in hand. Hermione and Ron followed him up, but the others were left there to look on in bewilderment.

"Judas sent you a birthday present?" Hermione asked as soon as they were safely behind closed doors.

"Looks like it." Harry sat on his bed and Ron dropped down beside him, snatching up his best friend's mysterious gift and shaking it slightly.

"I wouldn't open it if I were you," she warned.

"Oh please, Hermione! You're sounding the same as you did in third year when Harry got his Firebolt. It turned out to be absolutely fine!" Ron defended, looking over the other boy's shoulder as he opened the letter.

"Yes, but I was right about it being from Sirius wasn't I?"

"Who cares…?"

Hermione frowned, but stayed silent as the boys read the correspondence.

_Dear Harry,_

_Happy Birthday. July third, right? I believe I heard that somewhere. If I'm wrong, then think of this as your belated birthday present. I do hope you like it. It's not all that complicated of a gift, but if for some reason you cannot figure it out, just call out my name. Alright?_

_Thank you for trying to be sentimental with the silver ink. You would be surprised just how fitting the color is. I appreciate it. And you're probably right about Toadseye and Lockhart. Dumbledore most likely would keep the ministry out of Hogwarts and loony Lockhart deserved a place in the mad house long before his memory loss._

_As for your questions… Merlin, I've never been asked so many questions all at _once_ before in my entire _life_! How about this? Every time that you write me a letter, I'll tell you _one_ fact about me. After all, I'm supposed to be your _secret_ admirer. It would be kind of contradictory for you to know as much about me as I do you, don't you think?_

_Anyway, now you can go open your present. I'm sure Ron is about to tear it open for you if you don't hurry up. So, I'll talk to you soon… sooner than you think._

_Signed,_

_Judas_

_P.S. If it makes you feel any better, Hedwig bit me, too. I don't think our owls like us speaking to each other. Heh._

After he had finished reading the parchment, Harry handed it to Hermione to read over and took the small gift from Ron. Slowly pulling out the bow, he glanced at his two friends and cautiously removed the lid. Inside was a glass sphere.

"What is it?" asked the redhead.

"A remembrall?" offered Harry, taking the globe out of the container and turning it over in his fingers.

"No. It's too small to be a remembrall." The girl held out her hand and was soon given the gift to inspect. Ron had busied himself with looking at the box while the other two mused over the artifact. "It's about the size of a miniature snow globe," she noted.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Hermione, but that is _not_ a snow globe." Harry indicated its clear hallow center for emphasis.

"I _know_ that. I'm just taking observations."

"You don't know what it is, then?"

She glanced sternly at the boy before turning her attention back to the object in question. "Not yet. But I will, shortly. As soon as I have access to the Hogwarts Library."

"That's a _month_ away!"

"Then I suggest not using it until we know _exactly_ what it is and what it can do."

"Hey! What's this?" chimed the redhead, interrupting Hermione's doubts about Judas' trustworthiness. The boy was holding a small scrap of parchment and peering on both sides.

"Let me see." Harry accepted the paper from the other and, too, looked on both sided. "It's blank."

"Where was it?" Hermione asked, peaking at the parchment, as well.

"At the bottom of the box. It was underneath the globe."

"How odd."

"Considering all that we have seen, I don't think some plain parchment is all that odd."\

"I suppose," she conceded, folding her arms patiently and watching Harry draw his wand from the waistband of his pajama bottoms. "What are you doing?"

"There has to be _something_ on this paper, right? I mean, why else would he send it? What would be the point?" he replied, aiming his wand at the scrap. "Revealio!" (4) A faint glow came from the tip of his wand as it touched the paper. There was a short silence, but nothing happened.

"I still think that it is odd," the girl continued, pretending that nothing had interrupted her in the first place.

"It could've gotten in there on accident. You know, it just happened to be in there when Judas put in the globe," suggested the Keeper.

"That's ridiculous! It has to have a purpose. But what?"

"Dunno…" Harry snatched up the letter from where it lay on the bed and scanned it over. "… 'but if you can't figure it out, then call out my name.' What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Maybe just as it says," offered Ron, exercising his ever-present, simple-minded way of thinking. "Call out his name, Harry. Say 'Judas' into the globe."

Harry gazed at his best friend skeptically. If it worked, he'd have to repay Ron with a few chocolate frogs on the train. If it didn't, Harry would look like a complete fool talking into a crystal ball. Luckily, these two had already seen him at his worst; so he gave it a shot, anyways. "Judas…? Judas, can you hear me?"

There was again silence amongst the three of them, and, for a few moments, nothing happened.

"Okay, next idea," pressed Harry, tossing up the ball and catching it as he thought.

"No! Wait, _look_!" Ron touched the other boy's arm and paused his actions in time to see letters materializing inside the crystal. Harry immediately recognized the clean green script as Judas' handwriting.

_Yes, Harry. I can hear you._

The three Gryffindors exchanged glances of surprise, curiosity, and uncertainty.

_Or, more precisely, I can read what you're saying. Much like you're reading this now._

The first words faded out and were replaced with new ones; it continued to do so and the sentences went on. Once they finished reading the last of the message, the entire thing faded and the glass was left empty and clear. The trio didn't say a word as they tried to correctly think of how to respond to such an object.

"What is this globe thing?" Hermione asked into the crystal.

There was a long pause before another message appeared.

_Is that Hermione?_

"How did you know it was her," asked the Seeker, still slightly taken aback that he was indeed having an actual conversation with the boy on the other side of the letters.

_Her handwriting is much neater than yours, Harry. Is Ron with you, too?_

"I'm here."

_I see. So, you know who I am then?_

"No. We actually don't know who you are at all considering you decided to use codename Judas when speaking with us," snapped Hermione bitterly. She didn't trust this character at all.

_Ah, so you don't _trust_ me?_

"Something like that…"

"I think this is bloody brilliant," chimed Ron, earning a smile from Harry. The other quite agreed with his teammate.

_I'm glad _someone_ supports Harry talking to me. I'm not that bad, Hermione; just a Hogwarts student like you. What makes you distrust me so much?_

"How about the fact that we know next to nothing about you and yet you seem to know the world about Harry?"

_He's Harry Potter, for Merlin's sake. Who _doesn't

Ron suddenly burst out laughing. "That's _exactly_ what I told her yesterday!"

_Heh. And don't worry; Harry asked me _all_ about the lot of unanswered questions in his last letter. I already thought of something to fix that tidbit._

"That one-fact-per-letter deal?" Ron asked.

_Yeah… Um, sorry, but my dad is calling me. I have to go. If you ever want to talk to me, I'm right here. Okay?"_

"Right." Harry watched as the words faded away before he realized that there was something that he forgot. "Oh! Wait! Judas?"

_Yes, Harry?_

"What is the blank parchment for? Why would you send me something with now writing on it?"

_I wouldn't. There _is_ something written on it._

"What?"

_I cast a certain spell on it. You'll have to say a specific phrase before the message is revealed._

"A phrase? What is it?"

_What fun would it be if I told you? You'll have to figure that out later. Don't worry; one day you'll discover it._

Harry was silent with thought. He had to say a particular phrase for the message to appear? Like _what_?

_Good-bye, guys. I'm sure we'll talk sometime soon, but I _really_ have to go._

There were no words for a moment and then the last message surfaced.

_And Happy Birthday, Harry._

The crystal became clear and no more words formed.

"I like him," Ron stated amiably.

"He seems well enough, but still…" Hermione picked up the letter to read over once more. Both boys sighed and rolled their eyes at her as she murmured something about why Hedwig would feel the need to bite him.

"What would he have to do to win your favor? He just sat here and talked to you."

"He didn't 'sit here' at all. Once I know more than the style of his handwriting, than perhaps I may reconsider." She slammed the letter down on one of the cardboard boxes next to her and exited the bedroom.

Harry looked at Ron, who shrugged, and then went back to examining the crystal ball. If Hermione didn't approve, fine. She didn't have to be a part of his friendship with Judas if she didn't want to.

That night, as Harry lay in bed, trying to fall asleep, he stared at the globe on the bedside table. "Goodnight, Judas," he whispered.

_Goodnight, Harry._

TBC…

(1) – Minus Charlie and Percy I like Percy, too… (Pouts)

(2) – I have no clue! It just sounded right that I use black. Think whatever you'd like…

(3) – Like Peanut Gallery… Get it? Play on words…? sighs Never mind.

(4) – I can't remember where I read this spell, but it's in Harry Potter somewhere, I'm sure…

(5) – Sorry, I thought to add this in here last minute. But this is from my HP&tGoF PS2 video game… in case you were wondering…

AN/ As I said before, it is not the writing of these chapters that is difficult, it is the finding of the time to type them behind my parents back. So, again, I beg your forgiveness for the absolutely unacceptable lateness of this chapter. Number Six has already been started and I will try my very best to get that to you as soon as possible… Thank you!!! So very much!!!


	6. Toadseye on the Express

Year Six: Harry Potter and the Secret Letters

Chapter Six: Toadseye on the Express

Warnings: Minor Ginny-bashing, as always (Can you not tell that I dislike her?). And Enter OC Toadseye. Don't worry; you'll like him!

The rest of the summer break passed by with no commotion or mention of Judas. Bill went back to the ministry as a code breaker, Fred and George returned to the shop shortly after the party, and Arthur received a promotion at work in the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. He had to take extra long hours due to the uncommon activity that the dark Lord's revival had brought on. Meanwhile, as the four teens and Mrs. Weasley stayed at home, it was a miracle that they found ways to entertain themselves. Sometimes they would chase gnomes out of the garden, or practice flying their brooms (1), or play games such as Exploding Snaps and Wizard's Chess. But mostly, while the boy's were participating in some foolishness or other, Hermione and Ginny would be up in their room chatting about the two downstairs.

"It's not that Harry's oblivious," reasoned the redhead. "It's just that, I think, he doesn't _want_ to see me."

"Tell me about it," Hermione agreed, rolling her eyes. "Now that Ron's _finally_ noticed, he has lost any shred of tact that he may have once possessed. Now we act the same as we did in Second Year. He _purposely_ disagrees with me just to get on my nerves. It is _exceedingly_ childish."

"But at least Ron has _always_ been a pain. Harry's usually somewhat decent. He used to really care for others."

"He still does."

"I suppose. I guess it just seems that he is waiting for someone else to appear… like he has no interest in anyone _but_ that person. And yet, he doesn't seem to know who that person _is_."

It would always be right about this point in their conversations that Hermione would invite the other downstairs so that they may retrieve a snack or a glass of water from the kitchen. She was always afraid of telling about Judas where it wasn't her place and cause who-knows-how-much pandemonium for Harry. For now, she would simply wait and see what happens with this secret admirer.

Harry, on the other hand, never sent a return letter to said boy. He deemed it unnecessary now that he had the globe (he still didn't know what the heck that thing was actually called). Every once in a while, he and Ron would speak to the mysterious boy just to stay in contact until they reached Hogwarts. Once they got to school, Harry wasn't quite sure how or if things would change. He, too, would have to just wait.

Now, finally, it was the day to board the Hogwarts Express and return to his home-away-from-home. Arthur was able to get his hands on another set of ministry cars which Bill and Arthur were driving to the Burrow from Headquarters. Mrs. Weasley and the four students were scurrying about, trying to retrieve last minutes items before they arrived. It wasn't long before Molly's yell rang through the house announcing that the cars were there and that the four needed to hurry up if they didn't want to be late for the train. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny loaded their trunks into the back of the cars and took the cages carrying Hedwig, Pig, Crookshanks, and Arnold (Ginny's new pigmy puff) with them into the seats. The Gryffindor trio climbed into one car with Bill, while Ginny rode with her parents in the other.

The ride there was mostly quiet for Harry and his friends. They didn't speak much except for wondering about the feast and the awe-struck faces of the first-years.

"I wonder how many will be sorted into Gryffindor house," Hermione mused.

"I'm more worried about how many will be sorted into Slytherin," countered the redhead practically, earning a chuckle from the Golden Boy.

No one spoke of topics such as Judas, Voldemort, Sirius, or the prophecy. Some of those were in the process of being forgotten while others were pushed away until it was truly necessary to think about them. After all, one of those was something that the trio couldn't even agree on. It was best to avoid redundant conflict.

Arriving at the station, everyone reclaimed their trunks from the cars, placed them on trolleys, and made their way to stand in front of the column between platforms nine and ten. Mrs. Weasley ushered Harry through the barrier first and was shortly followed by the rest of the party. Naturally, and mostly out of habit, he motioned for Ron and Hermione to come along.

"We can't, Harry," reminded the girl apologetically. "Ronald and I have to go to the prefects' carriage and patrol the corridors for a bit."

"Oh yeah, I forgot." _Damn Prefect duties…_

"No matter. I'm sure you will find each other once you are all on the train. Which, by the way, you should board. It will be leaving in only a few minutes," Molly advised, consulting her watch.

"Right," agreed the students as they said their goodbyes and headed toward the Hogwarts Express. Harry turned to the redhead girl walking beside him. "Would you mind if I sat with you until Ron and Hermione are finished?"

Ginny was, needless to say, a little surprised and quickly answered. "Yes, of course! Uh, I mean, no, I don't mind," she stumbled with a small smile before she remembered a not-so-pleasant fact. "Though, I did say I'd meet Dean." _Damn boyfriend…_

The idea of sitting with his best friend's little sister and her boyfriend for an undetermined amount of time did _not_ strike Harry as a very _bright_ idea. He shrugged off the offer with a nonchalant attitude. "Never mind; forget I asked." Harry then scanned the platform for a familiar face among the crowd, while Ginny mentally cursed at herself for having a stupid boyfriend at the _one_ time that the other made even a hint at a move.

Harry's emerald eyes almost instantly pulled out a certain face from the rest: blonde hair, a green tee, and book-ended by boulders… "Malfoy…" The whispered name escaped his lips and before he even realized it, he was turning tail and heading straight for Arthur.

"Mr. Weasley, may I have a quick word?"

"Of course," was his natural reply, paying no mind to his wife's sour expression.

"Arthur, the train," she warned.

"It won't take long," he reassured, lightly taking hold of Harry's shoulder and guiding him away from Molly and Bill.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Harry began. "When we were in Diagon Alley—"

"Am I about to discover where you, Ron, and Hermione really went when you were supposedly in the back room of Fred and George's shop?" he interrupted with a slightly weary voice, as if he should have known better than to deny his first instincts about their disappearance.

"How did you—?"

"Harry, please. You're talking to the man who _raised_ Fred and George."

"Oh, right… Well, we weren't in the back room."

Arthur sighed. "Very well, let's hear the worst."

"Well, we followed Draco Malfoy. We used my invisibility cloak."

"Did you have any particular reason for doing so, or was it a mere whim?"

"Because I thought Malfoy was up to something," explained Harry, ignoring Arthur's mild look of exasperation and amusement. "He'd given his mother the slip and I wanted to know why."

"Of course you did," said Mr. Weasley, sounded resigned. "Well, did you find out why?"

"He went to Borgin and Burkes and started to bully the bloke in there, Borgin, to help him fix something. And he wanted Borgin to keep something else there at the shop for him. He made it sound like they were the same thing, like they were a pair or something."

"Sounds like a lot of 'some things,'" the man mumbled humorously, but Harry continued on.

"And there's something else. We saw Malfoy jump about a mile when Madame Malkin tried to touch his left arm. I think he's been branded with the Dark Mark. I think he has joined his father as a Death Eater."

Arthur appeared slightly taken aback and didn't speak for a moment. "That's a rather serious accusation, Harry. I doubt whether You-Know-Who would allow a sixteen-year-old—"

"Does anyone really know what Voldemort would or wouldn't do?" shot Harry, anger beginning to taint his voice. "Mr. Weasley, I'm sorry, but isn't it worth investigating? If Malfoy wants something fixed, and he has to threaten Borgin to get it done, it's probably something Dark or dangerous, isn't it?"

"I doubt it, to be honest, Harry," was Arthur's cautious reply. He wanted to heed the boy's instincts, but the evidence was against him. "You see, we raided his home after the unpleasantness at the ministry earlier this year and removed anything that may have been dangerous."

"I think you missed something." Arthur seemed to have forgotten just how stubborn Harry was.

"Well, maybe," he said, mostly just to humor him.

"Arthur, the train!" Molly cried from behind them. Mostly everyone had boarded the Hogwarts Express, the doors were closing, and the whistle sounded.

"You better hurry, Harry. Quickly!" ushered both Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as they helped him load his trunk onto the train. The door was slammed shut, but Harry kept his head out of the window in order to hear Molly's last words as the train began to move.

"We fixed it all up with Dumbledore, so you are welcome to come home to us for Christmas." Molly was trotting alongside the train by then. "So look after yourself, be good, and _stay safe_!"

The train turned the corner and Molly was out of sight.

Reality sank in and Harry slowly began to feel alone as he walked down the aisle trying to find an empty compartment. It wasn't long, however, until he came across one with only Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. Sure, they weren't his closest friends, but they were certainly ones of quality.

He quietly opened the door and smiled at the two inside. "Do you mind if I join you?"

"Harry!" exclaimed Neville, grinning broadly at the other boy. "No, not at all. Sit."

He tried to ignore that Neville had just given him a dog command, and obeyed it, first loading his trunk in the overhead compartment.

Luna was too busy trying to detach a pair of paper spectacles from one of her father's _Quibbler_ issues to greet Harry with as much enthusiasm as Neville. Instead, she whispered in her mysterious way. "How was your summer, Harry?"

"Alright, I suppose," he answered, getting comfortable in his seat and absentmindedly putting a hand in his pocket to finger the glass sphere. His mind was still mostly focused on Draco Malfoy and he didn't really feel like talking much. To make up for it, he pretended to listen patiently as his mind wandered off aimlessly.

Perhaps it had been an hour, maybe two, but soon the door was slid open, and there stood a bright, older woman (perhaps in her thirties or forties) pushing a cart full of goodies. "Anything off the trolley, Dears?"

Neville's face again lit up. His Gran had been kind enough to give him some money for snacks, and he hungrily ordered many sugary substances. Luna bought some Crazy Cauldrons, which simply fizzed and popped in your mouth, and Harry claimed the classic Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. It wasn't until after she had been gone for quite some time that Neville reached for one of his chocolate frogs, and it reminded Harry of something from a month previous.

Ron was the one who had figured out how to work the crystal ball that Judas had given Harry for his birthday, and he had told himself that he would treat the redhead to a Chocolate Frog because of it. It wasn't like he had told Ron this, and it was a bit overdue, but reward or not, he was sure that the boy would appreciate one after his prefect duties.

As he stood from his seat, Neville peered at him questioningly. "Where are you going, Harry?"

"To get something else from the trolley," was his honest reply, and he left the compartment, closing the door softly behind him.

The woman and her cart had already progressed quite a ways down the corridor to Harry's right, so he continued along briskly to catch up to her. "Um, three chocolate frogs, please?"

"Of course, dear." They exchanged candy and sickles, and then Harry turned on his heel only to bump into a broad chest. He looked up to see musky-hazel eyes, a slightly surprised yet kind smile, and a smooth, clean-shaven face.

"Oh, my apologies," the man said through his cheery demeanor. "That was entirely my fault, however…" He peered at the three boxes that Harry was holding. "Those chocolate frogs do sound tasty. Mrs. Maple," he said, looking back to the woman. "if you could spare a few please?" (2)

"Of course, Professor."

"Professor?" Harry mumbled to himself. If this man was a teacher at Hogwarts, Harry had certainly never seen him before, or perhaps he had just never noticed him. Unless… this was the man that Judas had been talking about. His questions must have been evident on his face because when the man turned back to Harry, he too looked curiously at the boy before smiling again. "May I introduce myself? My name is Toadseye. Darnay Toadseye," he said, sticking out his hand for Harry.

So, Judas had been right about their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. "Potter. Harry Potter." He accepted the proffered hand.

"Well, that seems to be a popular name in today's society. I'm sure I'll be able to remember it," was his casual reply. He paused a moment. "Are you in a hurry to get back to your friends, or would you mind visiting me? We could talk over a few chocolate frogs," he smiled, indicating the hexagonal boxes.

Harry smiled and shrugged.

"Splendid! Do follow me. My compartment is close by." Toadseye turned, short brown ponytail arcing as he did so, and led the way down the train. Only a good six compartments down did the man slide open the door and step inside. Harry followed, closing the door and sitting opposite the man.

"So…" Harry began hesitantly. "You're the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts?!" he asked surprised. "No, not at all. I only teach potions."

Harry went dumb for a moment. "Potions? But Snape…"

"Oh," Toadseye nibbled his bottom lip in thought. "I suppose they don't inform the students of such things until the feast, do they? Well then, let me explain. When no one would fill the DADA position, Professor Snape nearly jumped at the opportunity. Once I came and offered to fill his spot as potions master, Dumbledore finally agreed. Does that make sense to you?"

Harry fiddled with the sphere in his pocket as the thought of Snape controlling DADA lessons registered in his mind. Perhaps Dumbledore's Army would live on through another year…

At the lack of response, Toadseye smiled. "Hmm, I agree. It is a rather discomforting thought. Although, Snape is a very intelligent man and takes that subject especially seriously. I would not worry about it if I were you," he nodded. "Now, I will have you in my class this year, won't I?"

Harry shook his head. "I only earned an _Exceeds Expectations_ in my Potions class last year and I need an _Outstanding_ to continue."

"Ah-ah-ah," chimed the man, ticking a single finger at eyelevel. "Snape may have needed an _O_, but I'll take anyone with and _E_ and up," he smiled. "That means you, too."

Harry looked at the man strangely for a second, then chuckled.

"Does that mean I should ask McGonagall to enlist you still?'

"Sure. Thank you, Professor," the teen smiled. If he was able to continue to N.E.W.T. in Potions, perhaps he could still become an auror.

Toadseye began to unwrap a chocolate frog as he spoke. "Now, I asked Snape to give me an overview of his students for me, seeing as he has known them all for five years now and they will only be new to me." He exchanged a smirk with the boy, who all of a sudden seemed both nervous and angered. "Oh yes," Darnay continued. "He had a few choice words about you."

Harry couldn't help but scowl down at the floor, earning a laugh from the man. The hearty sound rang through the compartment and the boy couldn't help but feel more cheerful when it met his ears. "May I ask what he said?" Harry questioned.

"You may."

Harry paused a moment as he realized that the smiling man was going to make him repeat himself. "What did he say?" he asked again.

"He said that you were exceedingly stubborn and ignorant, unwilling to do anything except for what pleases or benefits yourself, and seeming to always befuddle your own work due to peer rivalry."

Harry was about to protest everything that must have come out of that git's mouth, until it mentioned his enemy. "Malfoy…" he whispered through gritted teeth,

"Ah, so I see that not all of what he said was a lie. I'll be honest; I thought you would deny it all," he said, amusement bubbling through his voice. "So, do tell me about this Malfoy. Snape had a few good words for him, as well."

"Let me guess. Snape said he was a perfect student; a child prodigy; the embodiment of what it means to be a Slytherin" was the teen's sour remark.

The man shrugged as he recalled what he was told. "For the most part, yes. Why? What is _your_ view on him?"

"A slimy, cowardice git you can't even stand up to Snape, let alone his own father. He bullies the younger Years just because he can, and is always surrounded by tough-looking morons because he is too much of a weakling to fight his own battles."

"Sounds like you have a growing detestation for this boy."

"Ever since First Year," Harry reassured. "Before I even learned his name on the train that year, I had met him in Madame Malkin's Robe Shop and was able to tell the moment he started to speak to me that he was a spoiled rotten jerk. Once I was sorted into Gryffindor and became immediate friends with Ron, he began to hate me. So I hated him back."

"Sounds petty," the man noted to himself. "Now who's Ron?"

"Ronald Weasley, my best friend."

"Oh, Snape told me about him, as well. His report was nearly as bad as yours, so I'll be sure to revaluate all of my students myself as soon as term begins. "

Harry smirked although the topic of Malfoy had begun to anger him. He then realized he had been squeezing the sphere in his frustration, and suddenly released it in fear that it might break. His abrupt movement caught the professor's eye. "What is that in your pocket, if I may be so bold as to ask?"

"You may," the teen retorted, mocking the man's previous remark. It took him a second to notice that he had not only released his irritation on a third party, but that he had talked back to his teacher. He cringed and sent the man an apologetic look, yet the other seemed completely unfazed. "Um, I-I honestly don't know what it's called," he answered, retrieving the gizmo from his pocket.

"You may not know what its _name_ is, but do you know what it _does_?"

Harry paused as he thought, wondering if telling his new teacher what the object did would lead to its being confiscated. So far, however, the man had been quite agreeable, so he dared to continue. "It lets me speak with whoever has its pair."

"Speaks? Are you sure?" the man smirked.

The teen frowned at the other. _Of course I'm sure_, he thought. _I speak to Judas through it… or more, write to Judas…_ "Well, I suppose it's more like writing to the person…" _Who is this guy…?_

"Ah, in that case, I am familiar with the item. It's called a Transport Sphere. Simple title, isn't it? What really controls what it is that it transfers is what spell you put on it. So… I'm assuming that this was given to you, seeing as you barely even knew what it was… the other person you speak of has set a charm on it relaying words. I could charm it now to transfer this chocolate frog," he explained, taking his first bite of the candy he had unwrapped some time ago.

"So it can transport anything?"

"Pretty much. As long as you have the correct charm…"

Harry wasn't exactly sure why this man seemed so… normal, but it was his nonchalance, chipper attitude, and studied knowledge that made him seem like a good ally to have. "Do you know those charms? Can you teach them to me?"

The man frowned to himself in remembrance. "No, I do not know them off of the top of my head, however I may look into them if you would like."

The boy smiled. "Yes, thanks!" Harry agreed with himself that he definitely liked this guy.

Just then, two people walked by their compartment, peeking in tiredly as if they had been doing so for quite some time. When they saw Harry though, they perked up and entered. "Harry! We were looking for you. Prefect duties are over, thank goodness. I thought Ron was going to fall asleep during the meeting in the Prefect Car."

"I was not!" the redhead protested.

"Hey, Ron, Hermione. This is Professor Toadseye, our new Potions teacher," Harry introduced as he scooted over so that his friends had a place to sit beside him.

"Potions?" Ron asked. "What about Snape?"

"Don't tell me…" Hermione began remorsefully.

"Got the DADA job," Harry explained shortly.

"Damn," Ron cursed, flopping down next to his best friend. "I thought Dumbledore agreed with the ministry that Snape was never to get that placement due to his past as a Death Eater."

"Obviously the fact that no one else would dare to take the position due to the past few years has forced Dumbledore to take such actions," Hermione noted logically.

"I guess that's one good thing about it," Ron said. "The job is jinxed, so I'm not expecting to see Snape at school next year." Harry chuckled, for he was thinking along the same lines.

Darnay smiled as he watched the three interact so naturally. "You must be the infamous Ron Weasley," he guessed, holding out his hand to the boy, which was soon taken up and shaken. "And Hermione…? Is that as in Hermione… Granger?" he asked.

"That's right," the girl agreed, also shaking the professor's hand after Ron.

"Harry here had not yet gotten to you, my dear, but I'm sure that you were right on the tip of his tongue next," he joked, sending Harry a smirk.

The black-haired boy looked at Hermione sheepishly. "I was just getting there," he lied, and the girl shook her head at him.

"So, Ms. Granger," he began with faux formality. "Professor Snape told me you were quite the… oh, what was the phrase he used… know-it-all, I believe it was. In that case, I look forward to having you in my class. I do enjoy having a student every now and then who truly tries to know what it is that they are doing," he played.

The girl first grimaced at the horrid nickname, but brightened when he went on to compliment her reputation. "Thank you, Sir," she smiled, and Ron grinned at her for finally being acknowledged in an appropriate way.

The man looked between the two, bit his lip in realization, and then chuckled to himself. "I'll be sure to set the two of you together during paired experiments. I believe you would probably work well together.

"Sometimes…" Harry mumbled to himself, earning sour looks from his friends which he laughed at.

These interactions went on for quite some time as it began to get darker outside and rain began to hit the windows. Quite some time later, the door to the compartment suddenly opened and there stood Ginny, appearing flustered and out of sorts.

"I swear," she started, looking between Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "If Zacharias Smith says _one more word_ about the Ministry last year, I'm going to hex him into next week!" It wasn't until then that she noticed the full grown man sitting across from them. "Uh, um, I mean, not that would _actually_ hex him. I would only threaten. I mean, no, um—"

The man laughed that hearty laugh again and shook his head at her. "Never you mind, my dear. Do join us," he offered.

She half-smiled, half-sighed in relief as she stepped into the compartment and began to close the door. Just about then, Malfoy himself walked past the door and on down the corridor. Instinctively, Harry jumped up out of his seat and left the compartment, followed by the voices of many inquiries. "I'll be right back," was his only reply, and as soon as he was in the hallway, he took his invisibility cloak out of the inside of his jacket and threw it over himself, instantly disappearing. The heads of his friends popped out to call back to him, but he was no where in sight. Ron cursed lightly under his breath when he saw Malfoy at the end of the hall.

"Merlin," Toadseye whispered as he too looked outside for him. "He's faster than I was told."

TBC…

(1) This excludes Hermione, of course, because is afraid of heights. She simply watched and cheered for Harry and Ginny from the sidelines. (Sorry Ron…)

(2) I took the liberty of naming the poor trolley lady. Did you ever notice that she did not have a name? How sad is that???

AN// Firstly, I know that the lateness of my post is absolutely inexcusable. I will not go into details about the sorrows that have recently occurred that has delayed this, however note that my next post might take just as long. I took my Spring break (the three days that I had) to write this up for you all, so I hope that you enjoy it. It is much longer than my normal chapters and I was tempted to keep going. Instead I'll hold it off until Number Seven. I _will_ try desperately to continue this story. I love it and its concept just as much as the rest of you. Thank you for your past reviews, and you must let me know if you like Mr. Darnay Toadseye. If not, tell me what to change, because I want him to be a friend to all of you. Thank you again for your dedication. I love you all!!!

Oh, by the way, tell me if you are or are not a Snape-fan. If a lot of you are, I'll try to cast him in a better light (Not as good as Draco's, but what do you expect? I'm a Draco-fan… XP)


	7. The Evil Side of Judas

Year Six: Harry and the Secret Letters

Chapter Seven: The Evil Side of Judas

Warnings: Please remember that I am trying to keep their interactions as close to the book as possible. (Oh, and since I am tired of Ginny, we are going to pick on Pansy a little instead. Okay? Okay.)

Harry followed closely behind the blond, hidden completely by his Invisibility Cloak and unbeknownst to Draco. The Slytherin entered his compartment at the end of the corridor appearing rather frazzled and annoyed. His Housemates, who had been waiting for him, quickly scurried out of the way to give him a place to sit between the window and Pansy. He let himself fall into the cushions, abandoning the open door in his frustration.

"What's wrong, Draky?" Parkinson asked in her annoying, girly way. Blaise, who sat on the other side between The Boulders and the window, stood to shut the door before any passerby could hear the inevitable sorrows that burdened Malfoy's mind. (1) This gave Harry only an instant to slip inside without touching anyone, step onto Zabini's temporarily vacant seat, and hoist himself into the overhead compartment.

Something white next to Goyle's head caught Draco's eye, but when he looked up at it, nothing was there. He stared at where he thought it had materialized, but shrugged it off as his mind playing tricks on him. "It's my father," he answered as Pansy urged him to lay his head in her lap and Blaise reclaimed his window seat.

"Again?" Zabini asked warily. "What does he want this time?"

The blond sighed, partly in resignation to Pansy's silent invitations and partly due to his constant inability to please the dreaded man. "He wanted me to check out that stupid new teacher," he stated as she began to run her fingers through his hair.

"Frogshead?" she questioned dimwittedly.

"Toadseye!" Blaise corrected. "Did you find him? You were gone for a good hour."

"Yes, well, it takes longer than you think to search up and down this entire bloody train. And when I finally _did_ find him, he was sitting with Gryffindors: Mudblood Granger, her traitorous boyfriend, his slut-of-a-sister, and Saint _Potter_." (2) Draco was sure that he put enough venom and distain into his words to make them believable, because small groans of disgust filled the compartment.

"I could understand wanting to get in good with the Chosen One and his friends, but the _Weasley Girl_?" Blaise pointed out.

"A lot of boys like her," said Pansy, watching the others carefully for a reaction. "Even _you_ think she's good-looking, don't you, Blaise? And we all know how difficult _you_ are to please."

"I wouldn't touch a filthy blood-traitor like her no matter what she looked like."

"No matter. It only ascertains that he has poor taste. I don't think he's interested in Death Eaters," Malfoy put in.

"Your father wanted you to scout him for the Dark Lord?" the girl whispered disbelievingly.

"Well, think of it this way," offered Zabini. "Ever since Potter entered the school, not a single DADA teacher has stayed… or survived, in some cases."

Draco shrugged. "What do I care? I may not even be at Hogwarts next year." That's how his father made it sound, at least.

"What do you mean 'not at Hogwarts'?" Pansy asked indignantly, immediately ceasing her petting.

"You never know. I may have—" he smirked to cover his disgust at the idea. _Died by the time next year comes around_, he thought as the Dark Lord's plans for him ran through his head. He had to remind himself that he was in the company of those loyal to Him before he continued speaking. "—moved on to bigger and better things."

Pansy slowly resumed combing his hair with her fingers as surprise rippled across the others' faces. "You mean… _Him_?" she guessed warily.

Crouched away in the luggage rack, Harry's heart began to race. This was exactly the kind of evidence he needed in order to convince the other's that Draco was following in his father's footsteps in becoming a Death Eater. Harry shifted slightly so that he could see and hear the blond better.

Malfoy shrugged again. "Mother wants me to finish my education first, but I personally don't see the need." _ Play along… Play along…, _he told himself. "I mean, think about it, when the Dark Lord comes to power, is he going to care how many O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s anyone's got? Of course he isn't… It'll all be about the kind of service he received, the devotion he was shown." It was at times like these that Draco was exceedingly grateful for years of practice covering up certain emotions. Anytime 'devotion' was mentioned, he thought of Lucius; and the fact that his father bowed to another man… It made him sick.

"And you think _you'll_ be able to do something for Him?" Blaise interrupted harshly. "Sixteen-years-old and not even fully qualified yet?"

He rolled his eyes with the irony. "I just said, haven't I? Maybe he doesn't care if I'm qualified." Silver eyes were hidden behind lowered lids, and as he thought over the Plans, he grew quieter. "Perhaps the job that he has for me isn't something that you have to be qualified _for_…"

Crabbe and Goyle were both sitting there with their mouths open like the gargoyles that they were, Pansy was gazing at Draco as if she had never seen something so awe-inspiring before in her life, and even Harry, up in the luggage rack, couldn't take his eyes off of the blond as his interest peaked and he was sure that he was going to find out all of the answers…

"I can see Hogwarts," announced Malfoy, interrupting the silence that he himself had created and pointing out of the dark window. In the distance, faint lights could be seen. The rain had dulled down to a faint drizzle so the beaded droplets on the glass magnified their size and brightness. "We better get our robes on."

Before Harry could completely break out of the dramatic trance, Goyle had already reached up and dragged down his trunk, sufficiently knocking the hidden boy in the head while doing so. He let out a sharp gasp of pain, brain throbbing mercilessly and Draco's attention once again drawn to his invisible form.

Whether visible or not, Draco did not think himself a fool twice in such a short period of time. He heard something. Period. There was someone hiding in that compartment, and he knew of only one person who would be both interested and idiotic enough to do so.

_... Potter…_

The hatred of being tricked, such as he was, flared up in his chest, and he began to think of nasty ways to punish Harry for betraying his precious Judas.

The train pulled up to the station a few minutes later, and the Slytherins began to exit the compartment, pushing aside a group of Second Years. Pansy turned, holding out her hand, to wait for Malfoy who still lingered inside.

"You go on," he said. "I just want to check something." As soon as she had left, he shut the door behind her and closed all of the blinds. He stood there for a moment as the noise outside died down, and the presence of another became apparent. He could feel Harry's eyes on him. Slipping his wand out of his robe, he tried to piece together a hex that may be appropriate for the situation. Taking the first one he thought of, he spun on his heel and pointed his wand at the luggage rack.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

There was a moment's pause, and then something fell and landed with a crash. And there was Harry Potter, frozen in an awkward, crouching position on the compartment floor. Draco couldn't help but smile at his own cleverness. "I thought so. I heard Goyle's trunk hit you; not to mention I saw something white in the air when Blaise got up to close the door," he clarified, justifying his suspicions by eyeing Harry's trainers to let the other know exactly what he meant. "You didn't hear anything that I care about, Potter. But while I've got you here…" Draco stomped hard on Harry's face, breaking his nose and causing blood to start flowing freely. Draco grimaced as it splattered on his shoes and he immediately felt a pang of guilt; not enough for him to take it back, though. "That's from my father." _And Judas…_ he added to himself. Sure, he didn't like his father in the least, but Harry still almost caused the man who raised him to be arrested or killed. He had even more reason to hate the boy than he let on sometimes.

"Now, let's see…" He considered perhaps stealing that lovely invisibility cloak that Potter's dead dad had left him, but decided it would be much more useful as a way to hide the other's broken face. "I don't suppose they'll find you until the train's back in London," he said as he dragged the cloak out from under Harry's stiff form, his voice quieting as the movement caused something to roll out of the Gryffindor's pocket. He picked up a small glass globe nonchalantly. "What is this, Potter? Longbottom's gran get you a remembrall, as well?" he mocked, smirking. When he took a good look at it though, he realized that he was staring at the Transport Sphere that he had given to Harry himself. His face fell as he glanced from it to Harry and back again. _Does he carry it with him everywhere?_ He wondered to himself. _Foolish boy actually thinks I'm serious…_ He controlled his features into a frown and thought as quickly as he could to cover up for his small lapse. "Damn thing doesn't even work," he said, tossing it onto the cushions of the seat where it was clearly visible from Harry's spot on the floor. The sight of Harry's slightly quickened breath and nervous eyes was enough to make Draco start to doubt if he should be doing this at all.

He mentally kicked himself. _Since when did __**you**__ care?! This is __**Saint Potter**__! He deserves every ounce of it!_ "See you around, Potter… or not." He made sure to step on Harry's fingers as a final reminder before leaving the compartment, closing the door, and rushing off of the train before all of the carriages had left… and successfully abandoning a wounded Harry Potter lying helpless on the floor.

Outside, Pansy was standing by a carriage with an open door and waved to Malfoy as soon as he came into sight. He climbed in quickly and she followed. His four housemates stared at him unceasingly even after the carriage began to move along toward the castle. They had sat like that for a few minutes before Draco finally asked, "What?"

"What do you mean 'what'?" Blaise snapped back. "What was so bloody important that made you hold us back for so long?"

"That's none of your business, now is it, Zabini?" the blond sneered back.

"It is when you make me late."

"We're not late, in case you haven't noticed. I can assure you that we are not the last to leave," he bit back, thinking of the one student who hadn't even been noticed as missing yet.

It was only once he was in the Entrance Hall of the castle that he was able to slip away into the corridor that led to the Slytherin dungeons. After he checked his surroundings to make sure that no one had followed him, he slid his own transfer sphere out of his robe pocket. At first, he gazed at it smugly, proud that he was able to pull off such genius as having multiple personailities that suited his every need, but his eyes soon displayed confusion as he realized that he, too, had the sphere so close at hand. _I called Potter a fool for believing me and keeping the bloody thing in his pocket, yet here __**I**__ am, clutching my own in my fist even as I walk… _He shook his head to rid himself of the train of thought before it was able to manifest itself further.

"Harry?" he whispered to his closed hand, the orb completely hidden in his grasp. "Harry, where are you?" Sure, _he_ knew where Precious Potter was, but _Judas_ didn't, and what a pity it would be if his cover was to be blown so soon. "I never saw you come off of the train. Are you even in the castle?" Draco knew that he had left the orb in plain sight of Harry, but the other was lacking the ability to speak under present circumstances. "Harry?" he asked once more to be sure it sounded believable of Judas, then pocketed the sphere once more and headed through the Entrance Hall with the crowd towards the Great Hall.

A spot had been saved for him between the Boulders and across from Parkinson and Zabini. As he sat, Blaise rolled his eyes and Pansy sent the blond a pout. "What?" Draco inquired again, frustrated at the weird looks he had been receiving from them all evening.

"Should we even bother to ask?" remarked Blaise dryly.

"No. No, you shouldn't."

"Why are you keeping secrets from us, Draky?"

"Will you _please_ stop calling me that, Parkinson," Malfoy snapped at her. "And I'm _not_ keeping secrets; it's just none of your damn business."

"Hey, look. There's Professor Snape," Goyle announced dumbly, interrupting the argument that was soon going to ensue between the three Slytherins.

Draco smirked to himself. _Perfect…_ Just as the greasy haired man had passed them at the table, the blond called out to him. "Um, Professor Snape!" He stood from the table and walked the few steps over towards his teacher and godfather while the man turned to face him with a clenched jaw, annoyed eyes, and an impatient sigh.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Sorry to interrupt your… energetic parade, but I thought it may interest you that Potter is not at the Gryffindor table." The man seemed to forget the minor insult once the green-eyed boy was mentioned. Draco took note of how the man's gaze quickly searched the nearby table for the familiar face and came up with nothing. He continued. "In fact, I don't recall even seeing him get off of the train." The blond could almost _feel_ the looks being exchanged between his Slytherin classmates behind him. Snape's face turned suddenly grave and angry. He glared at the boy in front of him before brushing past and heading back out of the Great Hall, cloak billowing, as usual. (3) Malfoy's smirk grew even larger as he returned to his seat. It seemed that his friends' irritation had dissipated with the possibility of an injured Harry Potter.

"What did you do to him?" asked Zabini, a cruel smile starting on his face.

"Not much," Draco replied with a shrug, ignoring the guilt of all that he had just done to the Gryffindor in light of playing his part as a Death Eater's son. "Just broke his nose and a few fingers." As the evil grins and snickers of mischief spread through his four companions, Malfoy's eyes met Hermione's a few tables away. She was gazing and the five of them worriedly, fury tinting her features as she realized what they must be discussing. There wasn't too much that got his friends this excited, and no doubt the girl noticed the absence of Potter by that time. It didn't take an auror to figure out what must have happened back on the Hogwarts Express. His smug expression faltered and fell as the guilt hit him again and Hermione turned to Ron to begin speaking animatedly towards him. Whether or not his classmates noticed his change in attitude, he wasn't sure, but he was saved any possibility of explanations due to the arising of Professor McGonagall to begin this year's Sorting.

XXXXXXXXXX

That beautiful green script, which Harry had come to look forward to seeing, faded from the sphere as he watched on helplessly. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. How was he supposed to let the only person who noticed his disappearance know that he was abandoned and paralyzed back on the _train_? The minutes seemed to drag on for an eternity as he waited for the Express to start up again and head back for London.

Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Professor Toadseye… They all saw where he had gone off to and whom he ran after. Wouldn't they assume that if Harry didn't get off of the train, it meant Malfoy must have done something to him? Wouldn't they worry? And yet, it seemed that Judas was the one who was the most concerned about Harry's well being, and not in the 'preserving-the-prophecy' way, either.

The pain in his broken nose was already beginning to subside as he got used to the throbbing; his fingers weren't broken, just sore. Harry also found that the longer he lay there, the more itchy he became, and of course he didn't have the ability to scratch at them. The only sensation that truly bothered him, however, was the pool of blood from his nose that was gathering in the corner of his mouth. His immobile tongue was able to taste the iron and salt and sweetness of the liquid that resided in him constantly yet was so foreign to his lips. It tasted like—

Realizing just what it was that he was thinking about, he abruptly changed the topic inside his mind to trying to find a way out of his current predicament. He strained his ears for any sounds outside of the compartment: the wind rustling the trees, the feather-light pattering of drizzle on the roof and window, the occasional hiss of steam from the engine, but the echoes of voices and the knocking of thestral-footsteps had long ago disappeared. The only hope he had of being found was if someone checked the compartments before the train departed, but even then they wouldn't see him due to that blasted invisibility cloak!

Harry nearly had a renewed hatred for Draco Malfoy. They had put up with a lot of nasty things from each other over the past five years, but he couldn't remember ever feeling this bitter towards his Slytherin peer. What a stupid situation he had now landed himself in… lying there pathetically on his side, waiting for someone to come in and step on him.

He mentally sighed. This was hopeless. Just as he was wondering how good of a hand he might have in non-verbal magic, the compartment door slid harshly open and a large pair of black shoes came to stand right next to Harry's unseen knees. A thrill ran through his gut at finally being discovered, but once his eyes had trailed up to the face of his rescuer, he would have rathered been halfway back to London than where he was at that moment. Above him towered none other than Professor Severus Snape, appearing annoyed and frustrated.

The Gryffindor's heart skipped a beat when he saw the greasy-haired man spot the transfer sphere on the seat cushion. Snape's long fingers wrapped around the perfect glass orb with malice, pocketed the item, and then glared quickly about the compartment. He stepped forward slightly to peek into the overhead rack, but sufficiently kicked Harry's shins in the process. It didn't take Snape all of two seconds to register what that must mean, and he soon reached down and tore the cloak away from the immobile victim.

"Mr. Potter," Snape identified sharply, allowing the last syllables to linger in the air momentarily. "Still trying to avoid the Sorting Ceremony, I see. You would think that after your little escapade in your second year, you would reconsider taking part in such recklessness. Then again, you were always one to regard yourself as higher than the rules." Harry was embarrassed beyond belief. There he was, crouched awkwardly before one of his teachers in a plainly paralyzed and slightly bloody state, and Snape had the audacity to accuse Harry of doing this to himself on purpose?! The entire idea was preposterous! He also noted, seeing as it was difficult for him _not_ to notice, that the Headf HjsfhHead of Slytherin House hadn't even taken the few seconds to unfreeze his student. Instead, Snape carried on with what he was saying. "I believe that _this_," he motioned to the cloak in his hands, "should be confiscated by me until further notice, considering it seems to be a useful tool in only bringing attention to yourself where you oh-so-obviously want it. However—"

Suddenly, he was cut off by the jerk of the train starting up again to move. Regrettably, the man pointed his wand at the other and muttered something under his breath. The green-eyed boy was immediately freed from his invisible bonds as a flash of red light consumed him. His first instinct was to push himself away from the other and into a more dignified sitting position, wipe the blood off of his bruised face with the back of his hand, and glare hotly up at the slimy git whom he had come to abhor with such a passion. "Get up," Snape snapped through a snarl, grabbing the boy's forearm, dragging to his feet, and pushing him out of the compartment and into the corridor. From there on, Harry felt the sharp jabs in his back of Snape's wand as it led him through the Express towards the platform door. Once there, shock stung the boy as the wand prodded him out of the moving train. After all, who in their right mind would leap from an in-motion locomotive?

"Jump," was the merciless order that reached Harry's ears right before the Professor's hand pressed firmly on his back and forcibly _shoved_ him out of the train. He was lucky that the vehicle hadn't yet picked up too much speed, and he came to a stumbling halt near the end of the platform. Glancing behind him after he had regained his balance, he saw Snape composing himself after his own jump and the Hogwarts Express turn the corner. Their race with the train had obviously interrupted Snape's accusations, for the man approached Harry, took hold of his upper arm yet again, and guided him back up towards the castle.

"As I was saying," he continued, deeming his words too important to overlook. "I do believe fifty points from Gryffindor should cover your lateness. And, let me see, another twenty for your muggle attire and your unceasing desire to be the center of attention. Hm, well, I actually can't recall any House ever being this far in the negatives so early in the term. They most likely have only _just_ started pudding. You must have set a new record, Potter."

Hatred was practically radiating off of Harry, and he was amazed his professor couldn't feel it. But what amazed him even more was that he had miraculously bit his tongue against any snappy retort. Although, as the man kept on with his tirade, he found the feat more and more difficult to accomplish. They were entering the guarded gates by the time Harry was about ready to sock Snape in the face and duct tape his mouth shut.

"I find it funny," the man began with a sneer, "how you _expected_ to be found, as if the entire school would go out in a search party to find The Chosen One. Are you so _desperate_ for fame and publicity that you'd play Hide-and-Seek with Dumbledore just to be noticed? I suppose you wanted to make a grand entrance, as well, did you? And with no flying car available, you decided that bursting into the Great Hall to announce your glorious presence would create enough of a dramatic effect to suffice, and the whole of Hogwarts would sigh with relief to be aware of your safe arrival."

Silence reigned as Harry's blood boiled with the plainly fabricated explanations. The sooner they got to the Entrance Hall, the better; he would have done next to anything to be away from Snape. When they reached the steps, he nearly ran ahead to get inside. "And, Potter," Snape called out, causing the boy the stop at the large oak doors, his hands already itching to push them open so that he may slip inside unnoticed and escape this night which had humiliated him so. "I'll be keeping this for a while," he said, indicating the invisibility cloak in his hands. "You can walk through those doors so that everyone can see you, which I am sure is what you wanted."

The Gryffindor would have gladly petrified the man and broken _his_ grotesque and crooked nose right then and there had he not been so afraid of expulsion. Shaking his head in frustration, he left the professor to follow him inside. However, instead of heading to the Great Hall, everyone was filing out of the doors towards their dormitories. Not only had he missed the sorting, he had missed the _feast_.

"Harry!" Hermione, who had already begun her prefect duties of showing the first years upstairs, turned back around and ran down to him and started the questionnaire. "Where have you been? We've been so wor— Blimey, Harry! What on earth happened to your face? Hold still." Harry froze as suddenly a wand pointed straight at his nose. "_Episky_! There, at least it's not broken. _Tergeo_. Ah, much better. Harry, what happened to you? We've been worried sick!"

"Thanks," he responded, feeling his mended nose and clean face. "But I'll explain everything later."

"But—"

"Not now! Not until we're up in the Common room."

Reluctantly, she agreed just as Ron caught up to them. One glance and he was able to get the idea that they'd discuss that evening's occurrences once the three of them were alone. So, instead, the redhead began to fill Harry in on everything that he missed during the feast and Dumbledore's speech.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Entrance Hall stood Draco in the Dungeon Corridor gazing at Harry thoughtfully. Just when he was seriously considering having Judas remark on Harry's sudden appearance, his attention was drawn away by the sound of his name being called. "Mr. Malfoy." Draco turned around to find that it was none other than his Head of House who beckoned him. "A word in my office, if I may?"

The blond sent Harry one last parting glance before following his godfather wordlessly away from the dungeons and to the fourth floor where Snape's new quarters were placed adjoined to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He simply stared at the man's back, feigning ignorance and nonchalance while fingering the transfer sphere absently in his pocket. He knew exactly what the professor wanted to speak to him about: why was Harry Potter abandoned in the Hogwarts Express, how annoying it was to always clean up his messes, and the new plans the Dark Lord had assigned him. Even though he figured this, he waited for the door to close behind them before crossing his arms and questioning shortly, "So? What is all this about?"

Snape, standing over his desk in a rather domineering manner, simply hissed an order from between clenched teeth. "Sit down."

There was a short pause while the blond raised a slim eyebrow, and then calmly claimed a chair opposite the man. "Better?" he asked smugly.

"Draco," the man began, his voice ringing with a warning of danger. "I have had quite enough of your childishness. The Dark Lord will not permit such behavior, for you know exactly the consequence of them, and neither will I. You are only a couple of years away from coming of age, and you will be required to begin acting as such. And now, with his plans for you, weakness is not an option."

"I'm not weak!" Malfoy snapped at the man, before biting his tongue to prevent him from speaking further.

Snape wasted no time in gliding around the desk, clasping his hands on the arms of Draco's chair, and leaning his angered and large-nosed face close to the boy's. "Participating in pathetic pranks such as the one you did tonight makes you a _child_. And being a child _is_ weakness." With a daring glare, he moved away and turned his back to his grandson. "I know your idea of weakness. It shines through your perfect mask every time that you see your father bow to the dark Lord."

Draco adverted his eyes to glare at a photo of a beautiful auburn-haired woman on his professor's desk. Her green eyes sparkled worriedly at him, and her hand was held out awkwardly in front of her, as if she wished to give him a comforting embrace but realized she couldn't due to the fact that she was two-dimensional. (4) Her concern only angered him further. He didn't need anyone's help, especially his father's. His attention was drawn back to the man at the sound of glass hitting wood.

Severus had roughly set Harry's transfer sphere on his desk and was watching the boy expectantly. Malfoy's eyes grew slightly wide in surprise and his hand flew to his pocket, out of sight of the other. His first thought was that his godfather had somehow slipped the item away from him, but it was still there. He could feel it sitting familiarly against his leg where he had been fingering it only a few minutes before. A breath of relief came upon him until he realized what this must have now added up to. That sphere must be the one he had given Harry… Questions started to race through his mind. Why didn't Harry have it? How did Snape get it? Does he know that it was for Harry? Does he even know what it is? Will he tell his father about it?

"No," Severus answered before a single word had left the blond's lips. He had taken the slightly panicked look on Draco's face as the shock that he had lost such a vital part of the Dark Lord's plans, and continued. "No one saw it other than me, but I won't always be there to clean up after you've had your… _fun_." (5) The man motioned for his student to take the orb as he sat down behind his desk once more. Malfoy grasped it protectively, but listen warily to the man's next few words. "I know that your father had sent you to Borgin and Burkes for something to aid you in your assignment, and I can only assume that this is it. However, should you ever manage to… _misplace _it again, please note that I will be sending it directly to your father. Perhaps he would be able to handle it more responsibly."

The thought of Lucius knowing about his recent connection with the Boy Who Lived made the Slytherin's face lose a bit of color. Luckily, Snape took it as fear of the Dark Lord's temper and seemed pleased with his reaction. "Also," he continued, this time more good-naturedly; well, as good-naturedly as Severus Snape would be. "While on the train, I confiscated something that may be of great use to you this year." It was then that he pulled out the invisibility cloak and presented it to Malfoy.

The blond was taken aback. _Confiscated?! More like stole… _He set glaring eyes on the man as he snatched the cloak out of his hands. "Why are you helping me?"

Severus' face fell back to its grim, stoic countenance. "I have no choice."

"Do you really think I'm that much of an idiot? Either you're lying, or someone ordered you to do so. Who asked you?"

"Your mother. She practically begged."

"My mother?! Since when did you have loyalties to _any_ woman, let alone my mother?"

Snape was now glaring right back at his godson. "That is none of your concern. Consequently, an Unbreakable Vow, as you very well know, cannot be ignored."

"An Unbreakable Vow?! You made an Unbreakable Vow with my mother?!"

"She wanted me to help you, to make sure you didn't injure yourself and that you succeeded."

"I do not need your help!" Draco stood with a flourish, turned on his heel, and exited the DADA office, transfer sphere and cloak in hand, leaving a still very irritated and annoyed Death Eater to fume alone behind his desk.

The blond quickly made his way down five flights of stairs to the Slytherin Dormitories in the dungeons. It was obvious now that his mother, though easily more likable than his father, did not trust him to fulfill the duty assigned to him. Honestly, part of himself did not trust him with the task, but what choice did he have? The Dark Lord had made it clear what to expect if his job was not performed, and he had no desire to experience such pain at that moment in time.

Entering the Common Room, he was greeted by the same four faces that he had the misfortune of seeing everyday for the duration of his stay at Hogwarts. "So?" Blaise asked skeptically. "Had another outing with Potter behind our backs?"

Malfoy merely sent him a glare and brushed past him. "Snape wanted to see me about my duty to the Dark lord," he said simply, ascending the steps, entering his dormitory, and sufficiently shutting his classmates out of the room. He flopped down onto his bed dejectedly and groaned into his pillow. Minutes passed slowly as he lay there, sprawled across his green sheets and wishing that he could rewind his life so that he may have one that is not so affected by the Dark Lord. Once he felt too drained to even care, he peeled off his cloak, tie, and shirt, stowed Harry's belongings carefully into his trunk, and climbed into bed, playing with and staring at his own glass orb. _I don't know, Harry, but I have a feeling that you're going to get me in a lot of trouble…_

Draco fell asleep with his Transfer Sphere held lightly in his idle grasp.

TBC…

AN// Dammit… I just realized that I made Harry do underage wizardry outside of Hogwarts… "…" … This sucks. (Sweat drop) I am SOOOOO SORRY that I took this long to update. Trust me, I had my reasoning, but I don't think any excuses will suffice. I am so sorry!! But, now I'm wondering… Does this mean I'll have to rewrite the seventh book too???

(1) – By the way, in case you can't figure it out, the 'Boulders' are referring to Crabbe and Goyle, of course. And 'the sorrows on Malfoy's mind?' Are you kidding me? Just how much can a little prissy rich boy whose family is totally ruled over by the Dark Lord possibly have weighing on his mind? (Please note sarcasm.)

(2) – Okay, so I had a bit of fun calling them names. So _what_ if it's not in the book? Sue me! (Not really… please! ;;)

(3) – Ack!! I'm sorry!! This scene sounded more like an HP/SS story than an HP/DM. You'll have to forgive me though, right[Bow, bow

(4) Try to guess who this pretty little lady is.

(5) Wow... o.0 That sounds really perverted to any yaoi fangirl….


	8. A Cheating Sphere

**Year Six: Harry Potter and the Secret Letters**

**Chapter Eight: A Cheating Sphere**

**Warnings:** For those of you who _did_ happen to like Snape, let's play a little game… (Grins evilly) I have realized that I have hinted Snape with Harry, Draco, and Lily already… So, let's see how many more I can hint at…!

It was the very first day of term, and Draco was already feeling irritated. His godfather, as the Head of House, had ruefully scoured the breakfast table that morning for each of his students schedules, approving them before allowing the Slytherins to run off to prepare for class. When Severus finally reached the pureblooded blond, however, the man barely even spared him a censorious glance for the disrespect shown to him the previous evening. As Snape passed on to Blaise and Pansy, Malfoy dismounted his bench and left the Great Hall angrily, muttering foul obscenities behind the man's back. When he realized that he was wondering around without an actual destination, he checked his schedule resentfully.

_Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor: S. Snape._

_Figures…_ he thought to himself, heading for the owlery since he had plenty of time before class. After all, he had to give Harry back his sphere. The cloak, on the other hand, Draco had kept for later use, just in case Snape was right and it came in handy. Once at the top of the small, circular, owl-infested tower, he called Aristotle to him. He pulled a box, just large enough to hold the sphere, out of his robes and tied it to the bird's leg. Inside was a short note saying, "Try not to lose it this time. –Judas"

"Alright, Aeris. Give it to Harry," he told his owl as he sent it out of the owlery window. He watched it until it turned around the corner of the castle and disappeared from sight, and then he left the tower to start for class.

He reached the locked DADA door only a minute or so before his friends and waited absently for Snape to lug his billowing-cloaked arse up to the fourth floor. His aggravated thoughts were momentarily forgotten as Blaise nudged his arm and pointed at the stairs. There approached the Gryffindor Trio: the girl speaking animatedly and motioning to her numerous textbooks, the redhead was smirking brightly at his, no doubt, break-full schedule, and the boy most on Draco's mind was simply listening distractedly, hand in his pocket, and most likely daydreaming about the Quidditch Captain badge shining brightly on the front of his robes.

"It seems Potter's Gryffindor Captain," Blaise pointed out, also having noticed the obvious branding. "I suppose it's seeker vs. seeker yet again this year." He lightly flicked Draco's own badge, indicating what he meant. Just then, the DADA door burst open and there stood Snape in the doorway.

_What the Bloody Hell?_ Draco thought, glancing back at the stairs towards the Great Hall where Snape was supposed to have been. _Did he simply floo powder himself inside just to get the grand effect, or something?_

He stepped aside impatiently and sternly hissed, "Inside."

Students obediently shuffled past their professor and claimed seats throughout the room. Unlike the night before, the early sunlight coming in from the windows illuminated photographs on the wall of witches and wizards in all sorts of agonizing conditions. With a roll of his eyes, Malfoy decided to tune out his godfather for this particular lesson. When Blaise asked why, Draco merely shrugged and explained that he just didn't feel like it. After all, Snape had already taken the liberty to snap at the Granger girl before everyone was even seated.

"I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention," Severus began ironically, glaring at the faces before him. His gaze lingered momentarily on Harry and something flared up inside Draco, as if the man was threatening a victim that Malfoy had specifically claimed as his own. While the blond was preoccupied with calming down his sudden anger, Severus continued on to pronounce their previous professors as inadequate and started identifying the ailments in the surrounding picture frames. After a few minutes, a high pitched voice interrupted Snape's lecture and Draco found the student bold enough to do so worthy of his 'fullest attention.'

"Has an Inferius been seen, then? Is it definite? Is He using them?" asked Parvati Patil. _Gryffindors…_ Malfoy thought, rolling his eyes once again and shaking his head as he looked away from her.

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past, which means you would be well-advised to assume he would use them again," Professor Snape answered, retreating back to the front of the class. _You of all people would know what the Dark Lord is using, wouldn't you? _Draco thought."Now, I believe that you are all novices in nonverbal spells. Can anyone tell me what their advantages are?"

As usual, Hermione's hand shot into the air and Draco raised an eyebrow at her. For being a muggle-born, even _he_ had to admit that the girl was uncannily intelligent and well-versed. Why she was not placed in Ravenclaw would never make sense to him. There was an elaborate pause in which Snape waited for anyone _other_ than Granger to raise their hand, but in the end had no choice.

"Your adversary has no warning of what kind of magic you are about to perform," explained Hermione expertly, "which gives you a split-second advantage."

"An answer copied almost word for word out of the _Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six_," Severus said dismissively, resulting in Draco's annoyance springing back into place. Could Snape ever just allow someone else to be brilliant in a subject?! The whole class had soon been assigned to pair up and practice nonverbal jinxes and shield charms.

He and Blaise had began on the opposite side of the room than Harry and Ron. Nearly the entire lesson had passed by when Snape finally pushed Ron aside and retrieved his place across from Potter. It all occurred so quickly to Draco, his eyes glancing quickly between the two. He stepped forward, his wand-hand raised and a halting word on his breath, when Harry beat him to it and yelled, "Protego!"

Potter's shield charm had been so great that it knocked Snape off of his feet and rammed him into a nearby desk. Draco stopped himself from continuing forward in slight shock and surprise at the power behind the spell. He looked at the scarred boy apprehensively and somewhat impressed.

Snape straightened himself and snapped at Harry savagely. "Do you remember me telling you that we are practicing _nonverbal_ spells, Potter?"

"Yes," the Gryffindor swallowed, appearing a bit nervous and defensive.

"Yes, _sir_," Snape corrected.

"There's no need to call me 'sir,' Professor." The statement seemed to just tumble right off of the boy's tongue without his consent, as if it was the most natural response in the world. His expression of fear and revelation afterwards said differently. Still, Draco couldn't stop the smirking grin from blossoming on his face. _About time_… he thought to himself, always wishing for someone to stand up against the man; all his anger abated. He turned back to Blaise who was fighting between a smirk and a scowl at Harry's defiance. It was at moments like these when Draco _knew_ Harry was supposed to be in Slytherin: rule-breaking, rebellion, stubbornness, talking back, and, at times, extremely brilliant and cunning.

Potter rightfully earned himself a detention and shortly afterwards the class had ended. While most of the other students filed out of the room, Snape approached the blond and warned between clenched teeth, "If you ever show me such blatant disrespect again in my classroom, Malfoy, your father will be the first to hear about it."

"My father?" Draco asked snidely, smirking, as the wheels in his head already began to spin in search for a quick-witted retort. "Considering your recent secret rendezvous with my _mother_, I would think you would go running off to _her_ sniveling if anything were to happen with me. Surely your married lover will come to your rescue?" Swinging his school bag over his shoulder, he turned on his heel and exited, much like he had the previous night, leaving a fuming DADA professor in his wake.

He didn't have any other classes until his afternoon double Potions lesson, and so he decided he'd go out onto the Hogwarts grounds to pass the time where Snape wouldn't expect to look for him. Claiming a boulder next to the lake, he threw his bag aside and pulled out his wand. For a good hour, he practiced trying to levitate the Giant squid out of the water without saying a word. Once or twice, a single tentacle broke the surface, but he wasn't sure whether that was due to his spell or just the beast stretching its limbs. After a while of failing in his attempts, he laid back on the rock and breathed a deep sigh of the fresh air. Strangely, though, something reached his nose that was not simply nature's goodness. It smelt of treacle tart… and holly leaves… and there was just some sort of refreshing, woody scent about it. He looked around him in search of the source, but there was no one outside and nothing unusual about. Then the idea struck him. _The sphere…?_ He removed the Transfer Sphere from his pocket, and sure enough, the smell had been emitting from it, Harry's silver script shining brightly from inside.

_Judas? Are you in class?_

Draco blinked at it, surprised at this new realization at the orb's abilities. "Um, no, no. I don't have any lessons until the afternoon."

_So, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?_

"No, not at all. What is it, Harry?"

_Nothing really. I just wanted to apologize for not responding to you last night, and thank you for returning the sphere to me. How did you get it back from Professor Snape?_

"He had no right to take it, so I simply took it back. Don't worry about it."

_But how did you know he had it in the first place?_

Draco thought momentarily for a cover-up story. He couldn't tell Harry that Snape had just given it to him; that wouldn't make sense coming from Judas. "I thought I saw him holding it before he put it back in his cloak pocket."

_Oh, I see. I'm sorry._

"Don't be. It's not a big deal." Draco frowned at himself. He wasn't sure when he had become so casual toward Potter, but he reasoned that he was only acting like that to help his faux character win Harry over. "By the way, I heard about your little… encounter with Snape this morning. It sounded brilliant, Harry!"

_I shouldn't have said it. I honestly don't know why I did. Still… it did feel kind of nice to give him a taste of his own medicine._

"Would you do it again if you had the chance?"

_I suppose… Maybe… I dunno._

Draco gave a short laugh. Harry's indecision seemed just like something Potter would do. Why Malfoy found it suddenly humorous, he wasn't sure.

_Hey, I know this is off of the topic, but didn't you say that you were gonna start telling me more about yourself? I haven't heard a single thing about you since my birthday._

A victorious smirk spread across the blond's face. "Actually, the deal was that I'd tell you one thing about me for every letter that you sent. You haven't written me a letter since before your birthday, not since you got the sphere." There was a long moment of silence before Harry spoke again.

_Okay, that's true, but still…_

Draco burst out laughing, practically able to hear the stubbornness, defeat and sarcasm in the other's voice. "Tricked you, did I?"

_A little. You knew it would happen, too, didn't you?_

"I hoped that it would work. It just shows how well I know you."

_And again I am reminded at how little I know about you. Let's see… Let's total up all that I know: you have an owl named Aristotle who likes to bite, you've been at Hogwarts with me the entire time I've been going to school here, you fancy me, your favorite color is silver, and you like to trick me to prove a point. Is that about all?_

With a chuckle, Malfoy added, "You know that I hated Lockhart as much as you did."

_Oh, gee, that practically wraps your personality up in a nutshell._

Draco laughed again at his sarcasm. "You know what? I can't remember the last time I laughed like this…"

There was a momentary pause, and then, _Really?_

"Yeah… Mine and my friend's families aren't really the laughing type."

_Sorry to hear that. Mine weren't either; the Dursleys, I mean. That's why I spend so much time at the Burrow with the Weasleys. They're always having a good time, especially Fred and George._

"The Dursleys? They sound familiar, but I can't remember who they are."

_Oh, they're my only living relatives: Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and my cousin Dudley. I'll have to explain them to you someday, once we can have a normal conversation over a butterbeer at Hogsmeade._

"That day seems a far time off."

_It does, but that doesn't mean that we won't get there, eventually, right?_

"How is it that you always seem to be optimistic?"

… _I'm not always optimistic, actually. It's with Ron and Hermione's help that I'm always able to see the bright side of things as well as the dark side. Which one I choose to act on, however, is consistently different._

They both seemed to fall silent as they thought over the many actions of the great Harry Potter in his fight against the Dark Lord. Draco knew that Harry was thinking about his godfather and how it was his poor choices which led to his death. "Listen, Harry, about Siri—"

_Hermione just got back. She's yelling at me for not doing my Defense Against the Dark Arts homework. I'll talk to you later._

"… 'Kay. See you." The blond wasn't sure if the other's sudden leave was really due to Hermione's nagging, or if it was because he didn't want to speak of Sirius. Even still, Draco tucked his things away and headed towards the Great Hall for lunch before his Potions class.

XXXXXXXXXX

Malfoy arrived at the dungeon's Potions Classroom with Zabini and Nott on each side of him. Draco had no words to express how glad he was that Crabbe and Goyle were unable to attend this lesson with them. It certainly felt more dignified to be flanked with two intelligent purebloods than the Dunce Boulders. Blaise had even lost a lot of his irritable nature since the previous night on the train, and Theodore had always been more agreeable, one who was on the kind side according to Slytherin standards and who's knowledge often reminded him of Granger's. The three had stopped outside the classroom door where the Gryffindor Trio, Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff, four Ravenclaws, and Pansy Parkinson were already there, waiting.

The four Slytherins stood together speaking over what their new professor may be like considering his taste in Gryffindors. After a few minutes, the door opened and out stepped a pleasant looking Darnay Toadseye. "Good afternoon, everyone. Merlin, there's so few of you," he noted, a bit disappointed, but immediately perked up again. "Ah, well, the more convinced I am of how well you perform. Please, come inside," he offered, stepping aside and allowing the twelve students to pass him.

In the room, there were three cauldrons with circular desks surrounding them like a planetary ring; at each round desk sat four chairs. The students directly broke up and grouped predictably together, each house sitting only with their own, and Macmillan joining the Gryffindors. Toadseye followed them inside and approached the front of the class. Tapping the black board with his wand, the name _Professor Darnay Toadseye_ appeared elaborately in small, clean script. "Welcome to your sixth year potions class," he introduced. "I am Professor Toadseye and will be taking Professor Snape's old position of Potions Master, seeing as he has moved on to Defense against the Dark Arts. I can only _hope_ that I will live up to his… infamous name." A couple of the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws chuckled at the not-so-difficult standards the Darnay obviously set for himself. "I also hope that I will be able to learn more about you over the course of this term," he continued, beginning to pace before the front two cauldrons. "I was told much about each of you, however it was proven to me last night that I may have been misinformed. So, each of you are starting with a clean slate to introduce yourselves with. Understood?" There was a general sound of approval. "Brilliant. Well then, no more chatter, time to begin our first lesson.

"Before each of you is a potion that I have already completed brewing. First is this," he approached the Ravenclaw table. "Can anyone tell me what it is, and what it does?" Hermione's hand once again shot into the air habitually. "Hermione?"

"It's Veritaserum, sir, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth."

"Very good. It is often used in the Ministry or other such greatly influential circumstances where the truth in necessary in a life-or-death situation. However, due to the more common ingredients, it is often abused and utilized inappropriately. Unfortunate as it is, there is the truth. Next," he moved over to the Gryffindor table, "is this… disgusting looking substance. Yes, Hermione?"

The slow, mud-like bubbling was more than familiar to the girl and her hand was raised before Darnay had even asked the question. "It's Polyjuice Potion, sir. When added with something containing DNA, it can change any person into that who's genetic information was added."

"Excellent. Although this one contains a few more difficult ingredients to come across, and it takes an extremely long time to brew, it also has been made by the everyday potioneer. Of course, careful attention to directions is vital, as with any other potion. After a month of brewing, I can't imagine how disappointing it would be to realize you stirred once in the wrong direction and the whole thing was ruined. And lastly," he continued on to the Slytherin table. "is this delicious scented concoction. Taking a deep inhale of the twirling fumes, he released a satisfied sigh and looked around the room. "Anyone?"

"It's Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world." answered Hermione, blushing lightly and earning a bemused smile from the new teacher.

"You could tell from the mother-of-pearl sheen?" Darnay asked with a friendly smile.

"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals. It's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and…" she stopped talking, her face turning closer to a scarlet color, as she realized she was announcing to the whole class what it was that attracted her.

To Draco's left, Theo gave her the smallest of smiles, probably unable to contain himself at how cute the girl looked, blushing the way she was. Blaise didn't seem to notice, but Malfoy took note to ask him about it later. While Darnay was busy awarding Gryffindor twenty points for Hermione's brilliance and going on to explain how Amortentia is used in today's wizarding world, Draco stared at the pink and gold swirling liquid before him. He could smell red wine, and almonds, and that distinct 'new-house' smell. There was also a slightly woody scent, much like the one emitting from the sphere earlier that day, and therefore it reminded him profoundly of the black-haired Gryffindor across the room. It was odd, but it was definitely attracting him, if nothing else. Momentarily, Draco wondered what it would be like if he snuck some of this love potion into Harry's pumpkin juice one day and just _happened_ to be the first person he saw. It would certainly make Judas' job a lot simpler.

"And what about that one, Professor?" asked Ernie, drawing Malfoy's mind away from his musings and causing the whole class to focus on a cauldron sitting on Darnay's desk. It was a pure gold color and droplets were leaping inside of it merrily. Draco sat up straighter to try to see into it.

"Ah, yes, thank you, Ernie. This little ball of energy is a fun thing call Felix Felicis." Hermione audibly gasped. "It is literally liquid luck… and by the end of this lesson, one of you will be leaving with a vile of it." A murmur sprouted up immediately throughout the classroom. "It's desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, when brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all of your endeavors tend to succeed… well, at least until the effect wears off."

"Then, why don't people drink it all of the time, sir?" asked one of the Ravenclaws, Terry Boot.

"Good question, Terry, thank you. If taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence. It's like having too much of a good thing, highly toxic in large quantities.

"Have you ever had any, sir?" asked yet another Ravenclaw, Michael Corner.

"Yes, Michael, I have. Once, a few years ago. A couple tablespoons with breakfast, and a perfect day follows. And that is exactly how much I am offering you." He pulled out a tiny vial from his robe pocket containing the golden potion. "There is enough here for twelve hours, from dawn till dusk. But please note that it is illegal to use in organized competitions, like Quidditch, your N.E.W.T.s, and class elections. So you are to only use in on an ordinary day, and watch it become extraordinary!" A kind grin blossomed on Toadseye's features, as if it pleased him greatly to see the excited faces of his students.

"So, one last thing to say, how do you earn it? Simple. Whoever can brew the best Draught of the Living Dead will get it. Now, I understand that it is above your abilities at this time, so I don't expect perfection, but whoever's closest gets the prize. You have about an hour left of class. Begin."

Instantaneously, the class erupted as students pulled out cauldrons, books, knives, vials, and ran to the front of the class to retrieve ingredients. Harry called Darnay over to their table reluctantly, realizing that he probably didn't stand a chance winning the prize. "Professor, Ron and I don't have any of the supplies. We didn't think we'd make this class, remember?"

"Ah, don't worry about that. I sent in orders to Flourish and Blotts last night for you both. Your supplies should arrive tomorrow morning. Until then, you'll have to share books with Hermione and Ernie. There a spare cauldrons in the back," Toadseye pointed out.

Malfoy, on the other hand, was working fervently already, flipping through his copy of _Advanced Potions Making_ and adding weights to his scales. The only thing that was running through his mind at that moment was how that little bottle would help him succeed in his job for the Dark Lord… or, if he was truly lucky, succeed in _not_ completing the job. Either way, his father would want him to get that vial!

Halfway through it all, Draco was having a hell of a time trying to complete his potion, and it was all due to that damn Gryffindor! The scent of the woody Amortentia that reminded him so much of Harry, combined with the retched distraction of Harry's foul potion on the other side of the room, was simply driving him mad. He couldn't concentrate. At long last, he angrily pulled out the Transfer Sphere and his wand out of his robes and magically shrunk the orb so that it could be held in his fist without anyone else seeing it. He pocketed his wand, then leaned his elbow on the table and his chin on his closed fist. "Harry…" he whispered into his closed hand, frustration bubbling through him and into his voice.

Across the room, Hermione, who was also struggling with the color of her potion, suddenly looked up from her book and turned to Harry. She sniffed the air and frowned. "Harry," she whispered to the boy on her right. "Your potion is starting to smell like wine."

"That's not my potion," he grimaced, the odor radiating from his cauldron becoming a horribly sharp contrast from the Amortentia that also still steamed on the other side of the classroom.

"Well, it's coming from you," she concluded stubbornly, returning to her own Draught of the Living Dead.

The scarred boy considered her for a moment, having learned not to take her assertions lightly, and began looking around him for the source of this sophisticated and bitter smell. He found his hand hovering over his pocket, and he froze as he considered the option. Abruptly thrusting his hand into his robes, he snatched out his Sphere and stared at it. Inside was written just a singular word: _Harry…_

Not caring if Hermione heard him he began speaking into the orb. "Judas?"

_Yes. I was just going to ask if you could _please_ stop—_

"Did you know that these things smell when you talk into them?"

Draco's irritation elevated at being interrupted. _Only when it needs to get your attention to alert you that something is being transferred. Now—_

"That's brilliant! Did _you_ think of that?"

_Um, no._ The anger in him began to spurt and die out at Harry's blatant and unintentional compliment. _I just realized about that today, too, when you talked to me before lunch._

"That's amazing. I would never have thought of something like that."

_Um… Thank you…_

"Hey, do you happen to be good at potions? I'm in class right now and I'm about to suffocate the entire student body with these damn fumes…"

Draco's mind was sputtering. He had only planned on yelling at the boy for being a complete idiot, and here he was being asked for advise in one of his best subjects. _Yeah, I do well in Potions. What are you trying to do right now?_

"I'm trying to make the Draught of Living Death, but I can't get any juice out of these god-forsaken valerian roots!"

Draco looked at his own root that he had just finished chopping before pulling out his sphere to scold the other boy. Taking one of the slices, he laid the flat side of his silver knife and pressed as hard as he could. Juice poured out of it like none of the other students had imagined. _Try crushing them with the flat side of your knife. It releases the juice better than chopping it._ Draco glanced over that the green-eyed boy at the table across the room from him. Harry had borrowed a silver dagger from Hermione and pressed the flat side against the dried up roots. The juice flowed out of them, and as he added it all to his potion, the smell immediately faded away and the liquid turned lilac. With a sigh of relief from ridding himself of at least one distraction, he started to go back to his potion when he realized Harry was still talking to him.

"Perfect! Thank you! How did you know to do that?"

_I've always kind of had a knack for it. Do you need any more help before I go. I have less thank ten minutes to finish this assignment._

"Um, yeah, actually. The book says to stir counter clockwise, but it's not getting any lighter in color."

Draco sat motionless in thought for a moment as he racked his brains for what he could do to help. Having a Potions Master as a godfather had always given him a step up in trick theories on potion-making. _Try… stirring it clockwise for every seven counterclockwise stir. That should work. If not, I'm not too sure what else you could do…_ He continued to watch Harry as he followed his advice and added in the clockwise stir. The next thing either of them knew, Harry's draught was becoming an increasingly light pink color, just as the book had indicated.

"It worked! Merlin, Judas! How do you know all of this?!"

_Let's just say that I have a very talented potions maker in the family._

"Wicked…" Harry whispered into his sphere as he continued lightening his potion and earning consistent glares from Hermione for cheating.

_Don't mention it. I have to go, though._

"Alright, thanks. I'll talk to you later."

Draco shoved the sphere back into his pocket so as to continue with his own potion, but just as he was adding the juice, Toadseye called that time was up and asked for everyone to stop stirring. Malfoy's mouth dropped open in anger and surprise. No… No! He couldn't possibly have just lost his chance at that potion just because Harry asked him to! Dear Merlin in Azkaban, what the hell was he thinking?!

Low and behold, as soon as Darnay passed Harry's cauldron, he proclaimed the Gryffindor the winner of the Felix Felicis and thanked the others for trying so diligently. Malfoy never felt so cheated! When they were dismissed, Draco was one of the first out of the door, followed closely by the Gryffindor Trio. He could barely hear Ron ask his best friend, "How did you do that?"

"Just got lucky, I guess," Harry replied.

_That bastard…_ Draco thought, enraged with himself that he got tricked out of a prize that was rightfully his, and then wasn't even given the credit for it by the boy that was supposed to be falling in love with him soon. Cursed '_Chosen One_!' He could feel Harry's eyes on the back of his head and it only bothered him further, He sharply made a turn into a connecting passage that led to the Slytherin Dormitories.

**TBC…**

**AN/** So here's another 5,000 words to entertain you. There was more H/D interaction here, so I hope that helped. And don't let Draco's anger get you down. He's simply short tempered. And you would be upset too if you were in his position. Well, sorry for the late update. Ta-ta!

Also, all rights to the idea of the Transfer Spheres emitting a scent go to my dear friend Chyane (AKA Firaa Nemishu) who might be introduced to you in a different fic that I will probably post on at a later date.

24


	9. Draco's Second Little Secret

**Year Six: Harry Potter and the Secret Letters**

**Chapter Nine: Draco's Second Little Secret**

**Warnings:** Beware of switched perspectives! Conversations with spheres often switch back and forth so that I can catch the reactions of both parties, so pay close attention to who the italics are referring to in that particular instant. Otherwise… Enjoy!

He wasn't sure how much more of Hermione's lectures she could take. If the struggle of that afternoon's double potions lesson wasn't enough, he didn't have to have the girl ranting on and on about how he had cheated and it wasn't fair. Ron was somewhere between the two, enjoying the thought of Harry sharing his new insight with him in order to up his grade, but frowning upon the thought that it was _Harry_ that Judas was talking to and not him, and therefore Judas was not very likely to answer any of the questions the redhead had to offer. Luckily, the scarred teen had escaped to the boys' dormitory before his ears began to bleed.

As was slowly becoming habit, once he flopped down on his bed, he retrieved the sphere from his cloak pocket. "Judas?" he asked into it. Oddly enough, when a sudden reply wasn't sent, Harry felt slightly irritated. What was up? Why didn't Judas respond? "Judas," he said again into the sphere, realizing that he always had a terrible habit of being impatient about things that he wanted to happen.

On the other side of the castle, beneath the ground level and deep in the dungeons, Draco lay on his own bed, face buried in his pillow, severely bitter and annoyed. To add to the blond's frustration, the scent from earlier that day returned to him even though all his nose was in reach of was the white, cushioned fabric. "Ugh," he moaned, rolling over and glaring daggers at the ceiling. If it wasn't enough that Harry had to completely steal his glory in that afternoon's double potions lesson, now he had that utterly sickening smell stuck in his head.

It took him many moments to comprehend that there was absolutely no reason why that particular aroma would be present unless it was coming from that god-forsaken sphere. Jerking it out of his robes, he saw his code name gleaming brightly in Harry's silver script. An uncharacteristic growl escaped his lips as he snapped into the globe. "What?"

The lack of knowing Draco's true tone was something Harry would never be able to feel more grateful for, well, later in life at least. He took the response as a natural reply and continued. "Thanks for your help today. I really appreciate it."

"Whatever," snarled Draco impatiently.

There was a short pause as Harry balanced his options of how he would like to phrase his next statement. "Um, can I ask you a question?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Sure," he retorted, sarcastic and bitter. "More classroom inquiries?"

"Not exactly," the Gryffindor explained, taking Draco's exasperation as an honest question. "You said you've been in the same year as me all through our time at Hogwarts. So, you must know who Draco Malfoy is, right?" he asked tentatively, hoping that this Judas person wasn't actually a friend of Malfoy's who may take offense to what he might say.

Draco sat up in his bed, staring wide-eyed and skeptically at the transfer sphere. There was no _possible_ way that he could have figured out his true identity that quickly. If he did, why was he still calling him Judas? "…Yes," was his only careful reply as he watched the glass pensively.

_Well, this may sound a little odd, but you remember the potion I had to make today? If you made it the best out of the entire class, you got a bottle of Felix Felicis, liquid luck, as a prize. Thanks to your advice, I won it, but I had Malfoy in my class, too. He never looked so angry than when he realized he didn't earn it. I guess, maybe it's just me, but I think there was more to why he wanted it than just for the luck. Do you know what I mean?_

Draco was blinking, surprised, at the sphere, clenching his jaw now and then out of pure nerves. Since when was Potter so observant? "Yes," he answered, nonetheless. "I know what you mean." Sure, there was a deeper motive to his actions, but he wasn't going to be sharing that particular fact any time soon.

_Can…_ The word faded away as Harry seemed to consider his words. _Can you keep a secret?_

Merlin, yes. Look at what he was keeping now: his assignment from the Dark Lord was hidden from the Light side, his hatred for the Lord was hidden from the Dark side, and his secret rendezvous with Harry through these letters were hidden from every living soul beside Aristotle. Oh, yes, he could keep a secret. "Of course I can. I'm keeping my identity a secret from you, aren't I?" he offered as a vague example.

_Alright. I see your point. So, listen to this. I saw him in Diagon Alley this summer, the same day you were there and gave me that letter. He was favoring his left arm in Madame Malkin's and he gave his mother the slip. Hermione, Ron, and I followed him to Knockturn Alleywhere he threatened Borgin about something; I don't know what it was. He never actually said the name of the thing. But Borgin wasn't having any of it, at least not until Malfoy showed him his left arm. I… I think Malfoy has been branded with the Dark Mark…_

A single, humorless laugh forced itself out of Draco's slack mouth, one of his eyebrows raised in speculative revelation. Harry had been following him? How had he not noticed? The fact that he was so easily tailed by three students made his skin crawl with nerves. What if he had given himself away to them, blown his cover in front of the Gold Boy of the Light side? His father would have killed him. The _Dark Lord _would have killed him! But that did explain why Harry wasn't in the robe shop when he sent Aristotle to him. And that would also justify Harry's intensified curiosity on the train. "The Dark Mark? I don't think so." Draco pulled up his left sleeve just to humor himself by the un-inked, pale flesh.

He could almost hear Harry sigh. _Yeah. That's what everyone is telling me. But I can't shake the feeling._

"Well, think about it for a minute. You don't see him disappearing randomly throughout the school year to attend Death Eater meetings. If he _was_ marked, he probably wouldn't even bother coming to school in the first place. And do you remember him ever favoring his left arm before or after that day?"

Ther was a short pause as Harry considered the question. _I guess not_. Another pause. _You wouldn't happen to be his friend, would you? I didn't mean to offend._

Draco shook his head a little, eyebrows raised. "No, I'm not offended at all. Amused is more like it."

_Amused? How can this _possibly _amuse you? We're talking about dedication to Voldemort here._

"Exactly. Your imagination when it comes to that particular topic is astounding."

…_I'm glad I was able to give you a few laughs…?_

Draco actually laughed a bit at that.

_Um, not that I'm trying to bring up the past or anything, but about earlier today… I waited until we got back to the Common Room because Malfoy was walking right in fron of us, but I told Ron and Hermione that you helped me. Hermione thinks that I was absolutely cheating, but I can't think of a more honest way to cheat. I mean, it wasn't like I was asking for you to do it for me or anything; I just wanted a few tips before I suffocated the class. That's a legitimate request, isn't it?_

Draco's face fell back to its casual, thoughtful expression. So, Harry _hadn't _taken all the credit. Not with his friends, at least. Draco was under the wrong impression, as he was figuring out happened a lot when it came to the black-haired teen. "Yes, it is legitimate."

_Thanks._

"No problem."

_Can I ask you another question?_

"That depends on what it is…"

_What's your favorite Honeydukes candy?_

A victorious smirk stretched over Draco's features. "Oh no you don't. The deal was that I'd answer a question for each letter that you sent me. You're not getting a single answer out of me until I see it in writing. Literally. Stop trying to cheat."

_You're the one _helping _me cheat, remember?_

Draco snickered. "Not this time."

_Damn. It looked promising._

"Looks can be deceiving."

_You're telling _me _this?_

"Good point."

A pause. _So do you think Malfoy's looks can be deceiving…?_

Draco though about it for a moment. "I suppose. We all put up a different façade when in front of different company. I guess it comes naturally."

_What do you mean?_

"Well… do you act the same when you're at the Dursley's as you do at the Burrow – is that what it's called? Or, between your friends and professors? Or your mum and your dad?" Draco stopped suddenly, not realizing what he was saying until it was already too late. "I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to bring that up—"

_No, it's alright. I think I can understand what you're saying. You think Malfoy only acts that way in front of Voldemort supporters?_

"In a way, yes. Or in front of those he feels the need to intimidate, like Borgin. It's just what happens when you have a lot weighing on whatever you say or do. For Merlin's sake, Harry, you're the Chosen One. You of all people have to know what I mean by pressure."

_Yeah. That part I can definitely understand… So, I'm just looking too deep into things, aren't I? The others were right…?_

"Yes. I think so, in this particular instant. But, your intuition isn't something to second-guess, Harry. If you have that kind of urge about something, you shouldn't just brush it off as you over-reacting."

'_Kay._

"Do you have any potions homework let that I can help you with?"

_No, thanks. Hermione already forced me to do it in front of her so I wouldn't 'cheat.'_

"Tell her to mind her own business. If you want to talk to me, then have her bugger off. You can ask me if you want to."

_Heh. 'Kay. I'll keep that in mind the next time she accuses my broom of being jinxed or the transfer sphere being cursed._

"She thought I'd cursed the transfer sphere?"

_Yeah. Shows just how ridiculous she can be at times._

"No kidding."

_Well, talk to you later, then? Dinner will be starting soon and I'm sure that the others have already figured out that I'm up here talking to you._

"Sure, talk to you later."

_Oh, and don't be surprised if you have a letter via owl post from me tomorrow. I want to know _something _about you, for Merlin's sake._

Draco snickered again. "Later, Harry."

_Bye, Judas._

XXXXXXXXXX

A rolled up piece of parchment indeed landed in front of Draco the next morning at breakfast. There was a flurry of owls overhead as anxious parents sent in asking about how the first day of school had turned out. The blond was already reading a letter from his mother and corresponding her notes with the headlines of the Daily Prophet when the leather-bound scrap distracted him. It was easily notable as Harry's promised letter from the previous evening, but when he looked up in search of Aristotle or Hedwig in the swarm of wings and feathers, they were already lost amongst the others.

Malfoy didn't spare a glance at the Gryffindor table as he dropped his other papers and untied Harry's. Blaise's curious frown went unnoticed as Draco read the letter to himself.

_Judas,_

_Alright, a letter it is then. But what to talk about?_

_Well, for starters, I still can't help but suspect Malfoy for something. I watched him all last night at dinner to see if I could pinpoint any of those facades you were talking about. Nothing. He just acted like the snide, Slytherin git that he has been for the past five years. I can't seem to agree with you there._

_Hermione seems to think the entire this is bollocks. Much like you. At least she's stopped spewing about the 'justices and injustices of cheating,' but I plan for that to return as soon as I ask you for help again._

_By the way, considering how well you do in Potions, why are you not in that class for your N.E.W.T.s?_

_-Harry_

_Question #1: Honeydukes candy?_

Draco smirked as he neared the end of the message, clicking his tongue reproachfully. 'Tsk tsk. Cheating again, I see.' He glanced up at Harry across the Great Hall, who was leaning close to Hermione to read the Prophet over her shoulder. Malfoy smirked lightly to himself in amusement of the other's nonchalant actions. Did Harry even realize how casual he seemed to act?

"Draco?" The odd voice brought him back to himself to find Blaise staring at him strangely. "Are you alright?"

The blond shrugged. "Fine. Are you?"

Zabini blinked a few more times at his classmate before turning back to his paper. The other Slytherins didn't seem to notice Draco's odd behavior; they were used to him receiving all sorts of mail and stopped questioning it back in first year. Popping a grape into his mouth, Malfoy stood, gathering his things, and exited the Great Hall towards the library where he could write back to Harry in peace and quiet.

_You're cheating_, Draco accused in the first line of his new letter, not bothering to greet Harry first.

_I said one question per letter, and you asked me two. I suppose this means I get to choose which one I'd like to answer… As far as Honeydukes goes, my favorite would have to be a licorice wand, or lemon drops. I like the bold flavor, I guess, now that I think about it._

_As for Malfoy, don't let it bother you so much. If, and I don't believe it, but if he is for some reason branded, I wouldn't worry about it unless you see him somehow acting on it. If you want to, if ever something else about him comes up, you're welcome to tell me. I don't see you as a _complete _fool. You do make moderate sense at times._

_Now let me ask _you _a question. Is this the first time you've suspected Malfoy, or have you been thinking this since first year. It's no secret that the two of you have been arch-enemies-at-first-sight. Explain?_

Draco copied his letter onto another scrap of paper with his beautiful emerald ink, having now made sure the rough draft was to his liking, and pocketed the first copy. He had been sure to keep a version of each of his letters with the responses from Potter in case he needed to back-track and check something that he said. Pulling a green ribbon from a pouch inside his book bag, he tied it around the rolled scroll and hurried off to the owlery to send it before their first class started.

XXXXXXXXXX

The week was only growing busier and busier as the days passed by, and time to speak with Harry was becoming abnormally limited. Classes were overbearing, and evenings were confounded with extra homework. Each day was spent cramming for exams that weren't even ten months away yet. Draco, though normally as proficient in his classes as Hermione, began to drag with the overload.

On Saturday evening, Harry asserted to being so busy with extra lessons that Draco couldn't get a word out of him until after eleven o'clock that night. Another week of school passed, everything hectic and heavy. By the time the following Saturday rolled around, the students were practically begging for any excuse not to study over the weekend. In one of their brief conversations over the transfer spheres, Harry had said that the Gryffindor quidditch tryouts were that day and Draco stole the invitation to attend as a way to escape the confines of the Slytherin Common Room.

The fresh, cool air striking Malfoy's face brought a rush of relief. He usually spent quite a bit of time outside in the heat and rain as a public haven, far from the stresses of Hogwarts. The walk down the grassy hill toward the quidditch field aided in the clearing of Draco's mind. The stuffy corridors were beginning to cause him to live in an overly crowded fog throughout the school day.

Assuming his appearance at a Gryffindor tryout would cause a scene, he hung back along the castle wall, far enough so people in the field wouldn't notice or recognize him from the distance, but close enough to spot Harry on his broom orchestrating the lot of wanna-bes. It took most of the morning. Even at the distance, Draco could hear the faint roar of Harry's annoyed yelling, instructing people to leave or please pay attention. Either way, his irritation was helping Draco keep a half-smirk, half-smile on his face the entire time. There were even a couple of threats shot at some rejected participants who refused to do as they were told, and even a crashed Comet Two-Sixty sometime during the Chaser tryouts. All in all, it looked like hell.

The trials for Keeper finally approached, and there many other random students had gathered in the stands, some of them rejects and some lazy students who were equally exploiting the mayhem as an excuse to procrastinate. Figuring he would be much less likely to be spotted now, he joined the crowd, sitting amongst a group of Ravenclaws. By the time he found a seat and caught himself up on what he missed, it was Ron's turn, who happened to be the last person trying out.

Ron seemed almost sick with anxiety, if his waxy green complexion was anything to go off of. Draco raised a single eyebrow at the redhead as his broom wobbled a little in front of the goal posts. It was an amazing feat that he stay levitated for the entire trial, let alone the fact that he hadn't missed a single quaffle. After his five goals were saved, Harry proclaimed as professionally as he could that Ron had fairly earned the position of Keeper.

However, as he landed and began to make his way off of the pitch, Harry was immediately stopped by McLaggen, a broad Gryffindor who had also tried for Keeker. The crowd had quieted enough to hear McLaggen's heated accusations. "His sister didn't really try! She gave him an easy save."

Draco turned a very sharp glare on the taller boy, tension slowly seeping into his muscles. Something about the way McLaggen was confronting Harry so close to his face made him instantly Draco's enemy. But his sudden hostility abated as quickly as it came when Harry stood his ground.

"Rubbish. That was the one he nearly missed."

"Give me another go."

"No. You've had your go. You saved four. Ron saved five. Ron's Keeper. He won it fair and square. Now get out of my way."

The small smirk returned to Malfoy's features at the demonstration of the stubborn, blunt Potter that he was so used to confronting. McLaggen seemed ready to punch the Gryffindor Seeker, but stormed off after a few moments of red-faced jealousy. Soon, fellow house members ran onto the pitch to congratulate all the new recruits, and Malfoy took the opportunity to slip away with the other spectators as to not be noticed.

He took his time meandering the grounds near the lake, refusing to go back to his studies any sooner than he absolutely had to, and heard voices floating down to him from up the hill. The Gryffindor Trio was walking across the grounds in the general direction of Hagrid's hut, Ron loudly boasting about his superb display of skill during the tryout while Harry and Hermione simply smiled and fed him sporadic praises. Slipping the transfer sphere out of his pocket, he quickly decided now was the perfect time to speak to him, when he could see Harry's expression. "Harry? Harry, are you there?"

It took a few moments and then Harry began to slow down, hanging back a bit as he looked around a little, lost. Then he froze for a fraction of a second before digging the transfer sphere out of his robes. Draco took pleasure in seeing the other's obvious eagerness to speak with him as the scarred boy held the sphere to his mouth and spoke relatively quietly, trying not to draw the attention of the still bragging redhead.

_Hey, Judas. I can't really talk for long. How is everything?_

Draco smiled. "Busy, but well. I saw the tryouts this morning. Your leadership abilities never cease to surprise me."

He could see Harry read the sphere and blink a few times with a furrowed brow of curiosity. _Really? Why? Wait, you were there?_

"Yes, as was a good portion of the school. And you always seem like such a people-pleaser, not wanting to hurt anyone's feelings. I was impressed when you stood up against McLaggen."

_That's what friends do… I impressed you?_

"Harry. I'm your secret admirer, remember? There are a lot of things about you that impress me. It comes with the territory."

He could see Harry smile, glancing between the globe and his friends to be sure they weren't listening in. _Right. Forgot._ The sarcasm would probably have been missed had Draco not been standing a mere sixty yards away, carefully gauging Harry's reactions.

"Tell Ron congratulations for me."

_I will._

"By the way, I know you've been busy and all, but I never got a letter back from you—"

The three students were getting rather close to Hagrid's hut by then, and Harry was getting a bit fidgety. _Sorry, Judas. I have to go. I have detention with Snape tonight, too, so I won't be available to talk until late._

"I thought it was for last weekend…"

_It got rescheduled._

"Um, alright. I'll wait up for you."

Once again, Harry gave the sphere a surprised smile and bit his bottom lip a little before responding shortly. _Talk to you tonight, then._

"Talk to you later, Harry."

XXXXXXXXXX

Draco had barely reached the Slytherin Common Room when he was assaulted by his four closest housemates, overwhelmed by a multitude of accusations and questions that he could hardly make out since they were all talking at once. "Bloody hell! What's wrong with you lot? Shut up for a minute, will you?" he snapped, a disgusted scowl plastered on his face. The other students quieted down, but did not release the blond from the corner they had backed him into. Blaise looked livid, Pansy sympathetic, and the boulders seemed really confused. "Crabbe, Goyle, go sit down before you hurt yourselves. Blaise, what's going on?"

"It's in the Evening Prophet," Blaise began flicking the paper in his hand to indicate the article. "Your house was searched by the ministry. Again. Arthur Weasley assigned it."

"What?" Malfoy exclaimed, snatching the Prophet out of the other boy's hand and scanning the article as he pushed past them. It was true; on the second page, in a corner between an ad for knock-off brand foe glasses and a photo of a shaken Ollivander, was an article along with an eloquent Narcissa Malfoy who was patiently explaining that the search was unjust and the ministry was obviously acting irrationally. The article briefly stated that the search had been based off a confidential tip and had turned up nothing. "What in Merlin's name— Now that the weasel father got a promotion, he's waving it around like some sort of trophy. How pathetic!" Draco dropped himself onto the couch without looking up from the sideways script.

"Who do you think the tip-off was from?" Pansy asked as she sat carefully beside him.

"How would I know, Parkinson? We're a death eater family! There are countless people who would love to see us all thrown in Azkaban."

"Yes, but who would go to that blood-traitor instead of someone with more power?"

Draco actually didn't respond quickly to that one. The first enemy on the tip of his tongue was also the one with the closest ties to the Weasley family. And the one who made him the angriest to think of as guilty. Sending the innocent girl a sharp glare for saying something offensive without even meaning to, he shoved himself off of the couch and stormed down the stairs to the dormitories. Only once the door was closed firmly behind him and he was burying his face in his pillow did he let out an aggravated groan.

Harry was going to drive him crazy.

XXXXXXXXXX

He was nearly asleep when Harry's fine script appeared in the transfer sphere from where it sat in front of his face on the pillow. He simply watched it blankly as his codename came up and faded away. Why was he doing this? Why was he playing with his food? Why was he acting a part when he was already playing too many as it was? Draco shifted the sheets up to his nose. Harry called his name again. It was different before he had the Dark Lord's orders to follow, but now he was crushing himself with the added pressure. It was suppose to be a game, a torturous game; now it was becoming a battle tactic. And it was making him miserable.

_Are you there, Judas?_

"I'm here, Harry," he whispered.

TBC…

A/N: …I know there is nothing I can say to justify this update taking two and a half years. Let's just say that I never thought I'd be writing fanfiction again in my life. But now I'm back, and this story is my main focus. You should be expecting another update within the next week or two if I can have my way. I want this. Please, review. You have every right to yell and bitch at me if you want; I'll take it. But tell me what you think of this chapter, if it flows, if I lost the characters. I'm a bit rusty after such a long break and I could use the criticism. And if you love it and want me to write more, be sure to put that in there, too.

I can't wait to write for all of you, again!


	10. The Hasty Attempt

Year Six: Harry Potter and the Secret Letters

Chapter Ten: The Hasty Attempt

Warnings: Do not fear. Draco is going through a lot, just as we knew he would. Be patient. It will work itself out. Other than that, try not to kill me for following the book. Haha.

The Daily Prophet continued to sport more and more depressing news come October. Innocent people were being arrested in hopes that the knowledge of the Ministry taking action would calm the wizarding community. Stan from the Knight Bus was currently awaiting trial after being heard boasting about the Dark Lord's plans. The Patil twins' mother had been found dead, murdered by Death Eaters, and the girls were wanted home. The only thing that kept the students at Hogwarts was the security offered by Dumbledore's presence. However, the problem was that the Headmaster had been strangely absent for the past week, and it was starting to unnerve the teens.

Draco had received a package from his mother that afternoon containing licorice wands and an urgent letter. He smirked as the candy reminded him of the last question the Gryffindor had asked of him, but his good humor quickly turned sour when he read her correspondence. All of the mail was being censored, so Narcissa's hints were vague, but she made it clear that he was to visit Snape before leaving on the Hogsmeade trip the following weekend. The first step in the Dark Lord's plan. The licorice instantly lost its appeal and Draco handed it over to Crabbe, who seemed to find it far more appetizing, while the blond exited the Great Hall in the direction of the Slytherin dorms.

The more he thought about his task, the more anxious and nauseous he became. He had the beginnings of that panicked feeling which made you not want to get out of bed for a month. The arrival of his first orders was making the threats real. Voldemort does not exaggerate when it comes to the tortures he would happily perform on you if you fail. And the Lord's threats were menacing. If Draco did not succeed, he and his parents would be openly humiliated and tortured in front of the Death Eaters, undergoing the Crucio Curse from the members and the Lord himself. And once they were milked of all the agony they could produce, they would be murdered. Draco had no doubt of the truths of this; he had heard the screams of such suffering once before when Voldemort had used the Malfoy Manor as the meeting grounds after their previous location had been disclosed. The traitor screeched until he lost his voice, and even then the rasping continued throughout the night until Draco awoke the next morning to utter silence. That quiet had been almost more unnerving than the wailing.

Draco softly closed his bedroom door behind him and laid on his bed, taking the transfer sphere from his pocket and examining it slowly. The candlelight from the wrought iron chandelier in the center of the room reflected dimly off of the glass. It had become habit by that time to speak to Harry when he was in bed. He had been making progress with the other boy, using Potions class as an excuse to talk with him almost daily. The amount of time spent giving Harry advice had taken a toll on the quality of his own work, but he deemed it unimportant. His assistance was earning Harry's respect and attention, and that was what mattered. If he succeeded in winning Harry over, it could lead to fulfilling the Lord's wishes, which would lead to Draco being branded and taken out of the school to become a Death Eater. If he failed… he would be slaughtered. Either way, he hardly felt his N.E.W.T.S. held any priority.

After that realization, he hadn't stopped at Potions. He was also teaching Harry little charms and incantations that he thought the Gryffindor would find helpful or amusing. Muffliato, a spell that filled nearby persons' ears with an unidentifiable buzzing, was turning out to be rather commonly used to keep professors or peers from hearing them whisper into their transfer spheres. A few of the jinxes he shared with Harry had backfired when the Golden Boy casted them on Crabbe and Goyle, albeit still humorous. And as their Charms and DADA classes grew more advanced, so did the private training the Malfoy heir was providing. And the more serious their conversations were becoming. It would start as 'How do you enunciate this spell?' and turn into 'Did you know that the Dark Lord tried to use this spell on me once?' Most of it was Harry opening up, inviting him in. The Gryffindor was getting flustered from his friends' constant dismissals of the 'Malfoy may be a Death Eater' problem and Hermione's accusations of Judas' apparently obvious shadiness. Harry found that Judas was always on his side even though he still claimed to be a neutral party, and the black-haired teen found it refreshing for someone to agree with him, whether over trivial matters or the Dark Lord. Draco usually became quiet around then and just let the other boy vent. He feared too much about giving himself away. He supposed it was for the better; his listening skills certainly could use some improvement.

Remembering this created a longing in Draco to listen to the other boy ramble about nothing in particular. He brought the sphere close to his mouth a couple of times to say something, but would then hesitate and move it away again. He didn't really have a reason to speak with the Gryffindor, nothing to say or ask or joke about. Nothing except the urge to contact the person who was on his mind. Irritated at his own indecision, he deemed purpose unnecessary and that he was perfectly free to speak to people whether or not he had legitimate reason.

"Harry—"

His bedroom door clicked open and Draco jumped with surprise, instantly hiding the transfer sphere beside him between his thigh and the folds of his bedspread. Theodore Nott's face appeared around the door, searching eyes landing on the blond and blinking with confusion. If he suspected Draco of hiding something, he didn't say anything, although he sent a knowing glance towards where the sphere was concealed. "We're going to be late for Transfiguration," he informed shortly, apparently set on waiting for Draco to get ready before leaving.

Theodore wasn't technically part of Draco's 'group.' Then again, Theo wasn't really part of anyone's group. He was the son of a Death Eater, but he found his studies to be more important than any of the social parties he could partake in. And for that reason alone, Draco found some level of respect for the boy. Hurriedly stuffing the sphere in his pocket and grabbing his book-bag, doubling back for his copy of _Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_ that he nearly forgot, he and Theo made their way out of the dungeons and to McGonagall's classroom.

XXXXXXXXXX

Snape was going to kill him. No, _Voldemort_ was going to kill him. The very first step of his duty unable to be completed because the head of Gryffindor House gave him a _detention_ for that Hogsmeade weekend! He kicked at the air in front of him as he headed for his godfather's office. The corridors were empty since most students were still in class. McGonagall told him to leave since he was 'unable to pay attention and insisted on not turning in the homework.' In truth, he had forgotten about the homework in lieu of Quidditch tryouts and Harry and the Dark Lord and Potions and Merlin knows what else. How was he possibly expected to remember a stupid essay on how turning walls into doorways is a practical skill? This was the second essay he missed in the last month, and Minerva deemed that worthy of a detention. A detention that just so happened to land on their first Hogsmeade weekend and the day his first trial was to take place.

Draco rapped on the professor's door impatiently, and the dark-haired man emerged after only a moment. Eyes flickered over the student briefly, and then Snape stepped aside to allow the other in. Severus lost no time in explaining Draco's next steps once he was sure no one else was in the vicinity and casted a silencing charm on the door. "I cannot tell you all of the details of what you must do, as I am not aware of your exact orders, but Narcissa has passed on to me that you are to perform your task while at Hogsmeade, where it can be mistaken as any Death Eater attack. You are to—"

"I can't."

Snape paused and gave the boy a critical look. "And why is that?"

"Because McGonagall just gave me a detention for this Saturday," Draco stated curtly, lazily taking the chair in front of his professor's desk and examining his pale fingernails as nonchalantly as he could.

The man came around to stand in front of the boy and hissed dangerously. "What?"

"Was I not clear the first time?" Draco sneered. "I have a detention. If I don't show, it will only place further suspicions on me. I'm already under close watch because of my father mysteriously escaping from Azkaban and the Dark Lord searching for more followers. And since I actually _am_ performing an assassination attempt here, I do not think brandishing my rule-breaking is the smartest idea."

"Obviously your rule-breaking is already flourishing since you managed to already receive a detention."

"Don't be ridiculous. I missed an assignment, is all. The woman is bloody insane. I missed it because our workload is too great as it is, and now she deducts another hour from time I could be spent _doing_ her assignments."

"Do not be so melodramatic, Draco. You would have gone to Hogsmeade for the entirety of the day and would have accomplished nothing for school." Snape sat in his customary chair and steepled his fingers in thought. "Now we must determine what to do—"

"You will do nothing." Malfoy sent his godfather a sharp glare. "This is my task, and I will accomplish it my way. The Dark Lord entrusted it to me. I do not need you and my mother holding my hand through it."

"You are aware, I'm sure, of what will happen if you fail. I cannot allow your pride to blind you when the lives of others depend on your success. You may gamble with your own life, but I will now allow you to gamble with that of your mother or myself."

"It is not my fault that you made the Unbreakable Vow! That was your own choice. Just as this task is mine." The blond stood and shouldered his bag once more. His patience towards the man he once respected was dwindling rapidly in face of his new responsibilities. He was well aware of what was weighing on this year, what his only options were. Kill or be killed. This was his life now. "I'll get it done. Just give me time," he stated, a bit calmer, then nodded farewell and left the man's office.

XXXXXXXXXX

Draco had wracked his brain the entire week to plot something in order to appease the Dark Lord. He knew he couldn't kill the boy in plain sight, and Harry would never go down without a fight. But if signs of progress were not reported, Voldemort might take that as failure. So he sent out multiple owls and pulled many strings, calling favors from contacts even more threatening than his mother would have liked, and finally arranged a secret exchange that was to take place in his absence. Draco purchased a cursed opal necklace that he remembered seeing in Borgin and Burkes in his second year. Mundungus had been caught and terrorized into delivering the packaged necklace to Blaise, who Draco got to participate after explaining that it was an order from the Dark Lord. From there, Blaise was to give it to a Gryffindor to deliver to Harry.

It was dodgy, and wasn't very well-structured. But it was something. If Mundungus skimped out, the Death Eaters would kill him instead of Draco. And if Blaise could not find an opportunity to slip it to a student, then they were less likely to be tortured. It was exhausting, and Friday arrived after what seemed like years. The weather was becoming harsh, so he decided to relax in the Slytherin Common Room after Defense Against the Dark Arts had ended, his legs hanging over the side of his armchair lazily. Blaise had followed him and sat on the sofa nearby. Including him in this plan had greatly diminished the amount of suspicion Zabini had been accumulating. Now he sent Draco meaningful glances every so often, as if conspiracy to murder was a bonding agent and they were new brothers in arms.

No words were spoken due to other students being around, but they were both deep in thought about the plan that was to be set in motion the next day. Draco was getting anxious about being discovered, for many reasons. Mostly because it was the cowardly way. If it did happen to work and the murder was accomplished, Voldemort would still not be pleased that he had yet to perform an Unforgivable, and his father would be shamed. Cunning and wit were key traits in being a Slytherin, but casting the Unforgivables is key to being a Death Eater. It would not be enough to gain Voldemort's trust and he would be forced to complete another task afterwards. Be that as it may, Draco was not convinced that he could defeat Harry in a duel. Harry had been better at practically everything since they first met, and had shown up Draco on many occasions during that time.

So, to Draco, it didn't matter how it was done. All he knew was that Harry Potter must be killed.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry woke early on the morning of the trip, which was proving stormy, and whiled away the time before breakfast by practicing little charms on his DADA textbook. As it plopped down on his bed after changing back from being a butterfly, it opened to a page that they had yet to get to in class. He glanced over it, slightly curious, and found it was a sort of levitation spell: Levicorpus. He figured it had to be something between wingardium leviosa and mobilicorpus and lazily flicked his wand at the book. "Levicorpus," he whispered. When nothing happened, he frowned and repeated, "Levicorpus." The book continued to lay flat on his bed.

He took out the transfer sphere from where he kept it under his pillow (lest it be stolen in his sleep) and spoke into it briskly. It had become habit to ask Judas for help in all things school and Malfoy related. Unlike Hermione, Judas never lectured him about doing his own work for once, and therefore he enjoyed the other boy's advice more. "Judas, are you awake?"

Draco was in that stage of sleep where you aren't really asleep but are still lying motionless with your eyes closed. His mind was pleasantly blank, basking in the warmth of his blankets and the familiar smell he had come to find comforting. He took a deep breath and began to shift, bringing feeling back into his limbs. The smell of Harry was all around him and he smiled to himself. It took another few moments for it to register that the smell was from the sphere, but it no longer surprised him; he was getting used to it. "Yes, good morning, Harry. How are you?" he asked after pulling out the sphere and stretching his legs a bit.

"I'm great, actually. Looking forward to Hogsmeade today. Listen, do you know the spell levicorpus?"

Draco was slow to open his eyes as he settled back into his sheets. His brow momentarily creased in thought. "Um, yeah. It's a levitation charm. Why?"

"I can't get it to work. Is there a special wand movement or way to pronounce it?"

"Pronounce it? Harry, it's a nonverbal spell."

The Gryffindor pressed his lips together a little. He wasn't very good at nonverbal spells, as Snape had been quick to note every chance he could during DADA class. Then again, Judas had been more help to him than Snape ever had. Flicking his wand at nothing in particular, he clearly enunciated the spell in his head. Immediately, somewhere in the room someone yelled! Harry yanked back his bed curtains to see Ron dangling by his ankle in midair, obviously having been levitated violently right from under his covers. He was still detangling the blanket from himself when the faces of the other boys appeared. Dean and Seamus roared with laughter and Neville was picking himself off of the floor where he had fallen in panic.

"Sorry!" Harry yelled over them, turning from Ron's startled face back to the sphere. "What's the counter-jinx?"

Draco frowned, trying to arouse his foggy memory. "Uh— Liber… Liberacorpus?"

Harry instantly waved his wand at his helpless friend, thinking the counter-jinx with all his focus and never once doubting Judas' word. There was a flash of light, and then Ron landed on a heap on the mattress. "Sorry," Harry mumbled feebly, embarrassed at causing his friend to be laughed at.

Ron simply rubbed his head. "Next time, I'd rather you set the alarm clock."

The room laughed a little more casually this time and everyone set to getting ready for breakfast. Harry snapped his book closed and whispered to Judas sheepishly. "I better go. I think that was one of the rudest awakenings I have ever given Ron."

"Wait, did you just cast it on him?"

"On accident! I didn't know what it would do."

Draco just snickered, tossing and catching the globe again jovially, the thought of the weasel dangling by his ankle being a rather amusing thought. "Nice one, Harry."

"Oh, shut it," Harry chuckled, the adrenaline from moments before passing by. "Better head down for breakfast. I'll talk to you once we get back from Hogsmeade this afternoon."

Draco's smile fell a bit as the memory of what awaited Harry that afternoon returned to him. "Yeah… I'll talk to you later."

By the time Ron and Harry had made it to the Great Hall, Weasley was happily recounting that morning's mishap to Hermione, who was sending icy looks to Harry. "Was this spell, by any chance, another one told to you by Judas?"

Harry frowned at her. "You always jump to the worst conclusion, don't you?"

"Was it?"

"Well… Yeah, kind of. I mean, he helped me with it, but so what?"

"So you just decided to try out an unknown spell Judas told you about and see what would happen?"

"Why does it matter if Judas told me?" he persisting, preferring not to inform her that he had first seen it in the textbook. Her ever-present suspicions of Judas made his irritation flare, and he was automatically on the defensive of his new friend.

"Because it's probably not Ministry of Magic approved. And also," she added when Harry and Ron both rolled their eyes, "because I'm starting to think that this Judas character is a bit dodgy."

"It was a laugh!" Ron asserted, pouring some ketchup onto his sausages. "Just a laugh, Hermione, that's all!"

"Dangling people upside down by the ankle? Who puts their time and energy into learning spells like that?"

"Fred and George," Ron shrugged. "It's kind of their thing. And, uh—"

"And my dad," Harry added, only just remembering. He had witnessed it when he fell into Snape's Pensieve last year. Not that he had ever told Ron or Hermione about it. "I—Lupin told me."

"Maybe your dad did use it, Harry, but he's not the only one. We've seen a whole bunch of people use it, in case you've forgotten. Dangling people in the air. Making them float along, asleep, helpless..." The girl's voice faded off as memories of the Quidditch World Cup filtered through their minds.

"That was different," defended Ron. "They were abusing it. Harry and his dad were just having a laugh. Admit it, Hermione, you only don't like Judas because he's better at Potions than you are," he noted with finality, flicking a sausage in her direction to enunciate his points.

"It's got nothing to do with that! I just think it is very irresponsible to start performing spells when you don't even know what they're for. And stop talking about 'Judas' as if he's a real person. I bet it's just a stupid façade, and it doesn't seem as though he is a very nice person to me."

"I don't see where you get that from," Harry cut in heatedly. "He's done nothing but help me and talk to me and joke around with all of us. If he was a… budding Death Eater, or something, he wouldn't be wasting his time being friendly with me, now would he?"

"Not all Death Eaters are as brutish as some. Becoming your friend would be easiest way to get to you when you're vulnerable."

Ron blinked a bit before speaking up. "Hold on a second. So just because I'm Harry's close friend, that makes me suspect of being a Death Eater?"

Hermione appeared frazzled as she began to lose track of her argument. "I'm just saying that you and I are in the perfect position for the Dark Lord if we happened to be Death Eaters."

"There is no way they would let me be a Death Eater!" Ron said indignantly, a bit of sausage flying of the fork he was now brandishing at the girl. "My whole family are blood traitors. That's as bad as being a muggle-born to them."

"Yeah, they'd love to have you," Harry added sarcastically. "We could all be best pals if they didn't keep trying to do us in." The redhead laughed at this, and even Hermione gave a grudging smile. The topic was dropped as they hurried through breakfast to get on their way to Hogsmeade.

XXXXXXXXXX

Draco was slowly losing his mind. The amount of anxiety and guilt building up in him was suffocating. He had been sitting in the Transfiguration classroom since breakfast, forced to write his missed essay for zero credit as his form of detention while McGonagall sat at the front of the class grading his peers' homework. Normally, this would have been the best way to serve detention; he could just spit out whatever random facts about the spell he wanted until it filled the page requirement and he was able to go free. But this morning, his mind was so far away that he couldn't concentrate long enough to remember what the thesis of the essay even was.

Whether this worked or not, word would get out fast. There was an assassination attempt from within Hogwarts. Parents would panic. Security would be elevated even further. His father would hear about it and give him a sound lashing. Voldemort would be furious. And that fear was more than enough distraction to keep him from writing about some stupid, useless charm!

Meanwhile, he was constantly worrying about Harry. Was he still okay? Does he suspect? How will he be able to talk to the Chosen One after trying to murder him? But mostly, it was the ever-present fear of if Harry was still breathing.

There was a loud shudder through the castle as what sounded like the front doors had been slammed open. McGonagall was on her feet instantly and heading for the Entrance Hall. "Once you are finished, you may leave your essay on my desk and leave, Mr. Malfoy," she directed to him over her shoulder. After he was sure she had made it down the staircase, he rushed out the door and looked over the banister for any sight of what was going on. He couldn't see anything but a couple of other students standing around staring just as he was.

Tracy Davis was hurrying up the stairs in his direction and Draco held out a hand to stop the other Slytherin. "What in Merlin's name is going on?"

"It's Katie Bell. Hagrid just carried her into the school. It looks like she's cursed!" she exclaimed before brushing past him, intent on spreading the gossip as quickly as she could with the Ravenclaws.

Draco backed into the classroom and shut the door once more. His plan had gone wrong… terribly, terribly wrong. He could have killed Katie Bell. He could have _killed_ Katie Bell! He leaned heavily against the wall, mind racing frantically with what that now meant. Zabini had successfully done his part of passing off the necklace, but Katie must have opened the package and touched it. An innocent had gotten caught in the crossfire of Draco's war. He had no idea what his father would say, or what the Dark Lord would say.

Something moved outside the window and Draco slid a little closer to get a better look. Four figures were joining up with a taller woman who he could barely tell was McGonagall. He didn't recognize the students at first, but then Ron's red hair gave them away. The five talked for a moment and then all headed back for the castle through the wind. Despite all of the conflictions going on in Draco's brain, there was a significant amount of relief as it sank in that Harry was safe.

He sat down at his desk and began rambling about the wall-into-a-door charm, whatever it was called. He didn't care. But he was at least able to block out his other uncertainties and throw together a haphazard essay. Within an hour, he would be out of that classroom and talking to Zabini about what exactly occurred.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Well? What happened?" McGonagall demanded of Leanne, Katie's friend who had witnessed everything, as soon as they were in her office on the fourth floor. Leanne tried to explain how Katie had come back from the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks with the package but had refused to tell her who it was for or where it came from. As the two had argued, the parcel had ripped open, and—by this point, Leanne was so overcome that she could not form another word. McGonagall swiftly dismissed her to the hospital wing to get something for shock. Once she had gone, Minerva turned sharply to the Gryffindor trio. "What happened when Katie touched the necklace?"

"She rose up in the air, began to scream, and collapsed," Harry explained before either of his two friends could speak. "Professor, I… I think Draco Malfoy gave her that necklace." His sudden accusation of Malfoy made Ron rub his nose, embarrassed, and Hermione shifted in her chair a little as if distancing herself from Harry.

Minerva recovered first and pressed forward. "That is a very serious accusation, Potter. Do you have any proof?"

"Well… no. But, over the summer, we did see him in Knockturn Alley." Harry quickly retold the story of the three of them following Draco to Borgin and Burkes and listening to his conversation. When he had finished, Minerva looked succinctly confused.

"Malfoy took something to Borgin and Burkes for repair?"

"No, Professor, he just wanted Borgin to tell him how to mend something; he didn't have it with him. But that's not the point. The thing is that he bought something while he was there, and I think it was that necklace."

"You saw him leaving the shop with a similar package?"

"No, Professor, he told Borgin to keep it in the shop for him—"

"But, Harry," Hermione stepped in, "Borgin asked him if he wanted to take it with him and he said no."

"Because he didn't want to touch it, obviously!" Harry bit back at her, not feeling up to dealing with her hypocrisy.

"What he actually said was 'How would I look carrying that down the street?'"

"Well, he would look like a bit of a prat carrying a necklace," offered Ron feebly.

"Oh, Ron, it would have been all wrapped up so he wouldn't have to touch it! It would have been quite easy to hide inside a cloak where no one could see it. I think whatever he reserved at Borgin and Burkes was noisy or Bulky, something he knew would draw attention to himself."

"Malfoy could have sent off for it if—"

"Enough!" McGonagall interjected, looking furious and successfully shutting up her three students. "Potter, I appreciate you telling me this, but we cannot point the finger of blame at Mr. Malfoy purely because he visited the shop where this necklace might have been purchased. The same is probably true of hundreds of people. And in any case, we have put stringent security measures in place this year. I do not believe the necklace could possibly have entered the school without our knowledge."

"But—"

"And what is more," Minerva continued with an air of awful finality, "Mr. Malfoy was not in Hogsmeade today."

Harry gaped at her, deflated. "How are you sure?"

"Because he was doing detention with me. He has now failed to complete his Transfiguration homework twice in a row. So, thank you for telling me your suspicions, Potter, but I need to go up to the hospital wing now and check on Miss Bell. Good day to you all." She held open her office door and the three had no choice but to file out in silence.

They walked all the way to their Common Room without saying a word, Harry's anger at Hermione for siding with McGonagall fading as they got further from the situation. By the time they were sitting in plush armchairs in the empty room, he felt compelled to join once they began discussing what had happened.

"So who to you reckon Katie was supposed to give that necklace to?" Ron asked to no one in particular.

"Goodness only knows," Hermione mumbled, shaking her head. "But whoever it was has had a narrow escape. No one could have opened that package without touching the necklace."

Harry considered the question for a moment. "It could have been meant for loads of people. Dumbledore, probably. The Death Eaters would love to get rid of him. He must be one of their top targets. Or maybe Snape if they thought he might be turning to the Light side. Or—"

"Or you."

"Couldn't have been, or Katie would have just turned around and given it to me right there in the lane, wouldn't she? We were behind her all the way out of the Three Broomsticks. It would have made a lot more sense to deliver the message outside of Hogwarts, what with all the extra security and everything. I wonder why Malfoy told her to take it into the castle."

"Harry, Malfoy wasn't in Hogsmeade!" Hermione asserted, actually stamping her foot a little in frustration.

"He must have an accomplice then! Crabbe, or Goyle. Come to think of it, another Death Eater. He'll have loads better cronies than Crabbe and Goyle now that he's joined up."

Hermione and Ron exchanged a look that clearly deemed there was no use arguing with the other. The redhead shrugged, changing the topic. "It wasn't a very slick attack, really, when you think about it. The curse didn't even make it into the castle. Not exactly what you'd call foolproof."

"You're right," Hermione affirmed. "It wasn't very well thought-out at all."

"But since when has Malfoy been one of the world's greatest thinkers?" asked Harry.

Neither Ron or Hermione answered him.

TBC…

A/N: Wow. o_o I can't believe I'm actually doing this. Ummm, tell me what you think of this chapter! Your feedback is the only thing keeping me writing. Sorry for there not being much Harry/Draco interaction in this one. This was more about explaining what the hell happened in the book, because we all know we hated it. Oh, and after further consideration, I have now decided that it will be absolutely necessary that I rewrite the seventh book as well, so be prepared for that. Otherwise, Ta!


	11. Clarity

Year Six: Harry Potter and the Secret Letters

Chapter Eleven: Clarity

Warning: I know you all love how close I am keeping this to the actual book, but it is really going to start changing soon. Don't worry; it will be for the better. After all, the sixth book needed to be re-written for a reason.

The story of Katie Bell's accident spread like wildfire throughout the entire castle. Blaise later explained that the girls had torn open the box during an argument and Katie had a small hole in her glove that was brushed by the necklace. Albeit casting the imperius curse on Bell, Zabini hadn't taken into account the suspicious friends of victims. There was a summons from Snape within the hour of Katie's arrival, which Draco promptly ignored. He knew everything the man would say and did not feel up to listening to it. He sent Blaise and Pansy to gather as much information as they could about what happened, and sent the boulders off to scare first and second years about the incident being linked to Voldemort's take-over of the wizarding world.

Meanwhile, Draco locked himself in his dormitory as soon as he had regained order within his group, and withdrew the transfer sphere with an eagerness that betrayed his inner conflict. "Harry? Where are you? Are you safe?" There was a short pause which seemed to be much longer to Draco than it actually was, and then Harry's familiar scrawl faded into existence.

_I'm fine. Back in Gryffindor Tower. What about you? You okay?_

Draco visibly relaxed. Yes, he had seen Harry approach the castle with the others, but the need to speak with him to verify this had heavily distracted him up until this point. "Yes."

_Good…_

"I heard about what happened to Katie," Draco began, hesitating, weighing his words carefully lest he betray himself. "I don't think that it was directed towards her."

_We don't think so, either. Maybe Dumbledore?_

"Maybe. But I think it may have been for you."

… _Hermione said that, too. But why try and sneak it into Hogwarts when there is so much extra security?_

"Because Death Eaters are idiots!" Draco sneered, thinking about Zabini's control over Katie or lack thereof. "Obviously their plan went wrong, so there's no way to be certain, but I seriously think you need to watch your back."

_I know. Everyone always tells me that. I'm aware people are trying to murder me around every corner, but I don't think this was one of those—_

"Harry! You are being naïve! Please, just stop doubting me and listen to what I'm saying. That attack was most likely for you, seeing as Dumbledore isn't even at Hogwarts right now and no one else is as hated by Voldemort as you are. What if she had handed that package to you, saying that it was from the Headmaster or something? You would have opened it without a second thought and who knows what that cursed necklace would have done to you."

_How did you know it was cursed?_

Draco rolled his eyes, wondering if Harry was listening to anything he was saying. "Rumors spread fast, Harry. Being cursed has a very specific look about it and, according to the gossip, Katie showed it."

… _Why are you so irritated? I may not be able to hear you, but I've learned your writing well enough. You're using my name a lot. Did I do something?_

The blond stared at the sphere for a moment, surprised that Harry had been so attentive to his way of speaking. But then again, Draco had started to learn Harry's inflections, as well. "I… I was worried about you." It was true. Draco knew he would have said this as Judas anyway, but it didn't matter. He had been anxious and fidgety all day, unable to concentrate knowing he was orchestrating something dangerous yet had no control over it. Something dangerous directed towards his new correspondent, his new friend. The Gryffindor didn't respond right away and Draco wondered if he had said something wrong.

_I was worried about you, too…_

Draco felt a light pressure on his chest as his heart beat a little faster. There was something touching about Harry's concern that gave him butterflies, and he realized he cared. Worry meant that Harry actually cared what happened to him, but also meant that Draco cared what happened to Harry. Suddenly, he felt as if everything got a lot more complicated although nothing had in fact occurred.

_Judas?_

"Yes, Harry?"

_I'm sorry._

"Don't be."

_I better go. I have a Potions essay on Everlasting Elixirs to write before Monday's class._

Draco smiled at the change in subject. "Is Hermione going to be looking over your shoulder, or can I help you with it? I have homework I need to do, too."

_Please do._

The Slytherin scoffed and smirked, rolling over to grab his textbook from under his bed. They wrote their essays together that evening, Ron popping in at one point to ask a question for his own Potions assignment. Katie and the Dark Lord were not brought up again, and Draco's nerves about his mistake were forgotten while he talked to Harry.

XXXXXXXXXX

The next morning brought a package from Harry of licorice wands that he bought at Hogsmeade. Draco started eating them before he even finished his porridge. The previous day's scare had left the two boys closer than ever. But just as he was enjoying his third piece and listening to the gossip of Katie leaving for St. Mungo's, a scroll was dropped beside him. He instantly recognized the Malfoy seal, and he paled with returning fear.

XXXXXXXXXX

All of the students seemed a little off after the entire Hogsmeade incident, so Harry hardly noticed that Draco's sneer was lacking some of its usual venom when they entered the Potions classroom on Monday. He, Ron and Hermione pulled their essays out of their bags and the girl held out her hand to turn in their essays for them. Harry had found Ron's work rather amusing since the typical large, messy handwriting was accentuated with words that the redhead purposefully misspelled in order to cross them out and take up more room. Harry's, on the other hand, was a respectable length due to the amount of detailed explanations and tips that Judas had provided. The secret admirer had sort of rambled on about what seemed to be everything he knew on the subject, and Harry took quick notes before the words had faded out of the sphere. He figured that Judas didn't even realize what he was doing, just talking casually about a subject of interest, not intentionally giving Harry a complete Potions lesson.

The boys relinquished their papers to Hermione and she approached the front table to add them with the others. Part of the way there, however, a distracted Draco bumped into her and the scrolls fell to the floor with a light patter. Instantly, Ron was on his feet, ready to defend her, and Harry's attention was on the blond in search of any possible proof for his Malfoy-is-a-Death-Eater theory. Draco regained his focus and shrugged away from the girl as if she were diseased. "Watch where you're going, Granger," he spat, her name coming off his tongue like that of a leper.

Hermione clenched her jaw to refrain from saying anything, and was side-stepped by the Malfoy heir as he returned to his seat without further event. There was a momentary pause where the student body anticipated a fight, but it passed and they returned to their own business. Hermione pursed her lips as she turned to pick up the dropped essays, but found a hand holding them out to her already. Theodore had been behind Draco and waited until she accepted the parchment before starting to walk passed her, as well. "Thanks," she murmured.

The weedy-looking teen quirked the corner of his mouth into a smile. "Sorry?" he asked, feigning not to have heard her but sincerely apologizing for his housemate's actions. Blaise and Pansy were glaring at Nott when he took his seat beside them, yet Draco barely spared him a glance. And Ron seemed positively livid. Harry actually had to firmly press down on his friend's shoulder to coax him back onto his stool. Hermione had just rejoined them when Professor Toadseye arrived.

"Good afternoon, everyone! All of your essays should be on my desk by this time," he reminded with a smile. A couple Ravenclaws scurried up to add in their papers since they had still been scribbling on them earlier. Once they were seated, the brunette professor flicked his want at the stack of parchment which promptly disappeared, presumably sent to his office for later grading. He gave them all another warm smile before continuing. "It occurred to me the other day that all of my students have been working extremely diligently so far this term, and I realize that your workload can be exhausting at times. So, as a treat, I have gained permission from the Headmaster to host a Christmas party in the first week of December." A murmur arose in the class as the teens confirmed what this new information would mean. Harry glanced at his friends, who exchanged glances in return, but did not say anything. "All of my students from every year are invited to attend, and you are all allowed to bring a date if you wish. So you have a month and a half to owl for some new dress robes and choose a date. Good luck finding both, and I hope it turns out to be fun!"

At the addition of dates, another murmur pulsed through the room, louder than the first. Harry even heard Hermione whisper how that would be a _lot_ of people, nearly the entire school. Almost as big as the Yule Ball. His stomach gave a flip at the memory. The Yule Ball had not been a good experience for him. He didn't know how to dance and he was the center of attention for the first song. Not to mention all of the drama that unfolded between his two best friends. Ron and Hermione looked at each other a little uncertainly now, obviously remembering the same thing. They were technically dating, but they really hadn't been acting any differently as far as Harry had noticed.

Professor Toadseye moved on to the lecture, having let the fuss die down first. Meanwhile, Harry's mind stayed on the topic of dates. He absolutely would not take another Patil twin. He would not let this party resemble the Ball in any way. He vaguely thought about perhaps just going alone; it said they were 'allowed' a date, not that it was required. And then Judas' name passed though his head. Harry quickly tried to brush it off. It would cause a huge commotion if he brought another guy as a date. Think of what Rita Skeeter would come up with for the Daily Prophet! Besides, Judas probably would say no anyway.

Still, the idea kept coming back.

XXXXXXXXXX

Tuesday afternoon brought Herbology for the Gryffindors. As they entered the greenhouse, the topic of Toadseye's party remained eagerly on their minds. "I refuse to wear the same dress robes as I did for the Yule Ball," Ron protested flatly, the memory of the frilly, maroon monstrosity returning to him. "I don't care if I have to wear my regular school robes; that ridiculous thing should never have been seen in public to begin with." Harry and Hermione both chuckled at the thought as they pulled out supplies to begin work on their snargaluff stumps.

"Well, if we're ever allowed to go to Hogsmeade again, we can see if we can find something," Harry offered.

"I doubt anyone will be going to Hogsmeade anytime soon," Hermione pointed out with a tinge of disappointment. The boys shrugged in agreement.

"Maybe Diagon Alley, then. We're going to have to buy Christmas gifts eventually."

"Speak for yourself. I bought all of mine during the summer," the girl refuted with a smile of superiority. "Besides, I'm sure it would be much simpler to owl for them like Professor Toadseye suggested."

"Yeah right," Ron interjected. "Ginny and I just got new school robes. If mum hears that I want new dress robes, too, she'll go bonkers—"

"_Quite_ enough chat over here!" Professor Sprout bustled over to them, looking stern. "You're lagging behind. Everyone else has already started, and Neville already has his first pod." The three students looked around; sure enough, there sat Neville with a bloody lip and several nasty scratches along the side of his face, but clutching what appeared to be an unpleasantly pulsating green grapefruit.

"Okay, Professor, we're starting now." As the woman moved away, Ron leaned over to his friend and added, "Should've used Muffliato, Harry."

"No, we shouldn't!" said Hermione at once, looking as she always did, intensely cross, at the mention of Judas and his spells. "We shouldn't be following anything that sphere says."

"What is your problem?" Ron defended, not even giving Harry the chance to say anything about it.

"We shouldn't be that quick to trust something we read. Think about second year, with what happened to Ginny."

"That was different. That was You-Know-Who. You can't possibly think Judas is You-Know-Who." Ron sent the girl a look that clearly stated she must be daft if she believed such a thing. "Even _he_ isn't desperate enough to sink to love letters in order to kill Harry."

"You never know…"

The redhead blinked at her for a moment, mentally debating about if this discussion was even worth having, but deemed it too important to leave be. "Why do you hate him so much, huh? What has Judas ever done to make you hate him?"

"I don't 'hate' him. I can't hate someone I don't know," Hermione defended bitterly. "Like I said before, I just think he's dodgy."

"Well, _Harry_ trusts him, so _I_ trust him."

"Harry's instincts aren't always right, Ronald! I mean, take what happened at the ministry last year…" Her voice died out as her words sank in for all of them. As unspoken as it may have been, they had agreed not to bring up Sirius for the time being. The loss was still heavy on the scarred boy. Ron was glaring at her in disbelief that she would bring it up, and her irritation had instantly shattered to be replaced with shame. Harry, who had been pointedly silent up until then, quietly excused himself to get a pair of gloves from the front table.

He had been doing so well with blocking out thoughts of his godfather. With the Weasleys and Judas, then classes and Quidditch and Draco, he hadn't allowed himself the time to reminisce about Sirius' death. In truth, the guilt was simply too great to confront, and so instead he ignored it. If he had just paid more attention in Occlumency, if Voldemort hadn't been able to get into his head, if he hadn't been so quick to believe his fake dream, Sirius would be alive right now. Still in hiding, still thought a murderer, but alive. The only piece of a real family he had, someone who knew the wizarding world existed, knew his parents, and who loved Harry like a son… Sirius lost because Harry was too quick to trust his instincts.

Even Judas had commented on how he didn't agree with some of them, like those of Malfoy being a Death Eater. He had said that instincts are good to trust, but aren't always right. Hermione had a point, no matter how painful it was to admit.

He took his time returning to his table, but the heated sound of his friends' hushed argument as he neared brought him back to reality. "Then you obviously can't stand to see him happy," Ron was saying defiantly. "Because he was miserable about Padfoot before Judas turned up. But since those letters started coming, he spends most of his time smiling."

"Of course I want him to be happy! But I'm worried that he's too quick to think everyone he meets is on the Light side."

"Just like with the invisibility cloak and the Firebolt? I think maybe _you're_ too quick to suspect conspiracy. Or maybe you just can't admit that Harry may be in love with someone!" The boy in question stopped short right before his chair, surprised at what his best friend had said. He wasn't in love with Judas…

"Rubbish! Harry deserves someone to love him. But they all love him for his name, not for who he really is."

"I haven't once heard Judas ask about Harry's fame or money."

"Of course you haven't. Judas only speaks to Harry."

"That's not true. Besides, if fame is what they were really after, they could have just handed over his letters to the Daily Prophet. But they are keeping it just as secret and Harry is. I mean, has it ever occurred to you that he's actually a perfectly decent guy and Harry might really care for him? What if Judas asks Harry to the Christmas party? Will you lock Harry in the dormitory to 'protect' him?"

Hermione looked flabbergasted at how this conversation was turning out and was struggling to define the line of logic within it all. "You're being ridiculous, Ron! Besides, what do you know of love and affection?"

"What?"

Harry was failing miserably at tuning out his friends as he tried to do the assignment without them. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed to have forgotten that she was in a classroom and was no longer making an effort to keep quiet. "You reprimand me about not recognizing the possibility of affection between Harry and a secret admirer, yet you call yourself my boyfriend and have done nothing but argue with me all year. You think of nothing besides Quidditch and the girls eyeing you in the corridors. Meanwhile, you treat me the same as you did in first year."

"Well, if I treat you so badly, maybe you should hook up with Nott, then!"

"Nott? Is _that_ what this is all about? Because some guy picked up something for me?"

"I saw the way he was eyeing you yesterday."

Hermione scoffed in disgust at the redhead's jealousy. "You know, I _was_ going to ask you to the Christmas party, but since you think I am so 'against love,' maybe I _should_ ask Nott."

At that moment, Harry shattered a clay bowl as he tried to crush the pod inside of it. He immediately whispered 'reparo' and continued, but the sudden sound had successfully diffused the couple's argument.

XXXXXXXXX

His mother's letter had informed him that he was to return to Malfoy Manor the upcoming Friday due to the 'fear of the Hogsmeade incident.' Many students were being excused for emergency visits home to reassure their parents of their safety, so Draco's did not stand out. However, he was certain that his safety was not the primary matter of concern in his particular circumstances. In fact, he was quite sure that his father had an itch to murder him personally.

Therefore, Draco deemed it essential to get his story straight by that time. His plan was simple, albeit risky: he was going to pin it on Zabini. He had told Zabini about the Dark Lord's favor of him aboard the Hogwarts Express; Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle could all testify to that. He would tell his father about how Zabini had been very interested in where he was and who he spoke to, especially in regards to Potter, which his friends could also verify. He would then present the idea that Blaise had become jealous of Draco's initiation as a Death Eater and probably took matters into his own hands, creating a hasty and obviously faulty attempt at killing Draco's target first. He would assure his father that he could not possibly have orchestrated it since he had not even been at Hogsmeade that weekend due to his detention, which also could be proven. These facts and Draco's firm accusations would be a strong defense against Blaise's plea of innocence. After all, Zabini did not know the specifics of Malfoy's original task or any of the threats had used with other parties involved. Blaise's case would be very weak. Whether or not he convinced his father was only secondary to Draco, although his support would strengthen his argument. More importantly was whether the Dark Lord would believe him. If Voldemort felt for even an instant that Draco might be lying to him, there was very little doubt in the blonde's mind that the Dark Lord would kill him. Similarly, if the Dark Lord believed Draco, then Zabini would surely be accused of betrayal, the penalty of which is torture and death.

Either way, the end result was the same: Harry Potter must be disposed of. And in truth, Draco wasn't sure if he would be able to murder the Boy Who Lived anymore. Dark thoughts of flashes of green, images of empty eyes staring at nothing through strands of messy black hair… He had fucked up. In his attempt to lure his prey closer, he also became attached to it. Even now, the transfer sphere sat securely in his pocket where he fiddled with it constantly like a bad habit. He would leave it on his bed while he did homework or the bathroom counter while he brushed his teeth, incessantly glancing at it in wait for the characteristic silver scrawl to appear.

He didn't know what he was going to do. He didn't want to commit the murder to begin with, but it had at least been fathomable. He was able to draw off of five years of rivalry, of bitterness and pranks and shallow arguments. But for the past couple of months, every time his anger towards Harry arose, the Gryffindor abated it with his blunt honesty. Any conflict they had in the halls was later reconciled through conversations with Judas. Purposeful offenses during class had lessened, and Draco had made an effort as Judas to diffuse any anger or suspicion Harry had towards him. That ability to calm made Harry even more trusting and candid with him. He had divulged how his friends were fighting, how Draco's every move was watched in search of fault, and how Hermione was highly skeptical of his new relationship with Judas. Malfoy had taken to relenting an understandable cause for these events, but reasoned with him until they were dismissed.

Amidst doing all of this, it was causing Draco to be more open with himself. Each time he defended himself against being a Death Eater, he had to face the truths of Harry's observations. He had even touched the subject of his father on a couple of instances before redirecting the conversation. He wasn't used to being so honest with people. He altered his beliefs depending on who was in the room. Even with Harry, he couldn't be completely truthful lest he gave himself away. But his anonymity allowed him the freedom to express opinions never before expressed in mixed company. No, he couldn't talk much about Death Eater meetings or the expectations of Malfoy purebloods, but he could tell Harry his stance on the Ministry or Professional Quidditch, on Dumbledore and Snape. And even when their opinions differed, Harry didn't hold it against him. This arrangement only made Draco respect him, and affection stems from respect.

This frightened him. His assignment was clear: kill or be killed. Although he may find his father weak in the face of Voldemort, his did care about his family's safety, and his own. And his new revelation of caring for Harry meant he cared for the scarred boy's security, as well. He could not handle either side dying. Judas' existence had compounded the problem immensely, and the pressure and stress was starting to make him feel nauseous.

"Draco?"

The blonde looked up from his parchment, quill still in-hand. He had zoned out mid-sentence and had not written a word in a long while. Blaise and Theodore were closing their textbooks, having finished going over their charms assignment together. "We're heading down for dinner. You coming?"

Malfoy shook his head and returned to his homework. "I don't feel well. Go on without me."

Both boys frowned at him curiously but stayed silent as they left the room. Draco dropped his quill on his essay and laid back in bed since he knew focusing on DADA would be impossible. Thoughts of Harry flooded back to him, along with all the confusion that came along with them. The stress began to build itself up again, so he took a deep breath to calm his nerves and found the scent of Harry reaching his nostrils. He smiled and bit his bottom lip as he fished out the sphere from his pocket.

_Hi…_

"Hello, Harry."

_Um, have you got a minute?_

"Of course."

_Well, I don't know if you've heard, but Toadseye is having this Christmas Party… thing, and I was just wondering if maybe you would… like to go with me?_

Draco did not respond right away. This was exactly the kind of thing that was causing his inner turmoil. "I… I would really like that. But, well, I'm your _secret_ admirer. I can't really go on dates with you." There was another pause, and the Slytherin got the impression that there was much more at stake in this conversation than a date to a party.

_Judas, you can't stay secret forever._

Malfoy knew it was true. One of these days, Harry would find out who he really was, and the close friendship he had made would come to an end. In a way, it may solve his problem, having Harry go back to treating him like an enemy, but he knew it would hurt.

_What would have been the point of doing this if I never get to meet you?_

"You will, someday."

_Someday isn't good enough._

There was a pang in his chest, knowing Harry wasn't happy with him, but he couldn't think of anything to say.

_What is it, Judas? What is it about you that you're so ashamed of?_

Everything. The deed he must do, the way he was lying, the very existence of Judas. "It's not that I'm ashamed."

_Then what is it?_

"I'm… I'm afraid of what will happen."

_Of my reaction?_

"Partly, yes."

_Judas, if I wasn't interested in you, I wouldn't have asked._

The butterflies he felt a couple of days before were back, making his heart beat faster at the mention of Harry's care for him. "But there are plenty of other people. You can take anyone you want to that party," he added briskly, trying to edge the discussion away from more heartfelt topics.

_I'm not interested in anyone else._

Draco released a breath that he didn't know he was holding, noticing the way it quivered as it passed through his lips.

_What is the other part?_

Either of us being tortured by Voldemort for loving each other. He thought through his words carefully. "The wizarding world. What will happen if their Savior is swept away by some guy."

_I already thought about that. Worse things have been printed about me in the Prophet._

"But—"

_Look, if you don't want to, fine. But at least give me an honest reason._

For a long time, neither of them said anything. Draco was fighting with himself. He was just feeding the other excuses, legitimate as they might be, and Harry saw right through them. By the time he spoke again, he wasn't even sure if Harry was still on the other end. "Things will change once we meet, and I don't want them to. I'm not ready to face you yet." There was a pause that made him think the Gryffindor had left, but the silver scrawl slowly appeared.

_I understand._

TBC…

AN: Wow. This chapter gave me hell, but I love how it turned out. I have discovered the Harry Potter Lexicon, which is my new best friend, and I hope that this story with continue to enthrall you. Thank you, and please review!


	12. Like Father, Like Son

Year Six: Harry Potter and the Secret Letters

Chapter 12: Like Father, Like Son

Warnings: You all seemed so confused about Draco's true feelings and intentions. I hope those last two chapters cleared things up for you all. (If not, read the reviews. Some awesome readers have taken the time to explain it for you. Thank you, PotentialDrowner; I'm looking at you.) Also, I will be re-writing the first two chapters from scratch due to complications I found in them. I will let you know when I finish that so you can go back and read them. It will be completely different than the current versions. Also, if you are a Snape fan, as many of you said that you are, I apologize ahead of time that I will not be moving him to the Light Side in this fic as most Drarry authors do. I hope that will not change your desire to read this. That having been said, enjoy the chapter-!

Wednesday morning brought word that there would be a quidditch match against Slytherin that weekend. Harry grimaced at the schedule over his pumpkin juice. He had been looking forward to the first match of the year, but the fact that it seemed to always be against the serpents put quite a damper on it. As much as he enjoyed the elation of beating Malfoy, he didn't feel up to dealing with their dirty play this week, the week everything appeared to be going downhill.

After Toadseye's declaration of the party, he had assigned a sixteen-inch essay on the properties of hellebore and its effects in different potions. He had also just finished a particularly cruel experience in Herbology where he almost lost his hand, and McGonagall set them early homework for the spell they were going to learn today—transfiguring canaries from thin air. On top of that, Ron and Hermione glared daggers at each other whenever they were in the same room, and Judas hadn't said a word to Harry since their discussion the previous night. And now he had quidditch to worry about.

Worse yet, quidditch without one of their best players, Katie Bell. A substitute would have to be found and trained immediately. He remembered Dean flying particularly well during tryouts and made a mental note to ask the boy after Transfiguration. However, that would mean three of his friends would be on the team, including Ron and Ginny. Other Gryffindors would begin to question Harry's decisions, claiming he wasn't being fair and only letting his friends on the team purely because they were his friends. Therefore, it would be essential that they beat the Slytherins that Saturday.

He glanced over his shoulder at the Slytherin table, instantly finding the blonde that he had spent years watching. Light circles shadowed silver eyes as he gazed blankly at the plate in front of him. Deep in thought about something he didn't wish to discuss, Malfoy didn't seem to notice the way Zabini, Pansy, and Nott glanced at him curiously and continued their conversation without him. In fact, he didn't seem to notice anything. The Prophet sat untouched beside him, and he was absently pushing his food around with his fork. He appeared a bit paler than usual, and generally ill.

Ron caught Harry's gaze drift across the Great Hall and followed his line of sight to Draco. "Bloody hell," the redhead grumbled under his breath, returning to his corn flakes. "Whatever his problem is, I hope it lasts until after Saturday's match. I'll take any help we can get."

"You shouldn't wish ill on people, Ron," Hermione scolded quietly. "It makes you no better than them."

"What are you playing at? I'm loads better than them!"

Harry turned back to his friends, tuning them out. He vaguely wondered what could be bothering the Slytherin, but was sufficiently distracted at the thought of telling the fact to Judas. The previous night's discussion had not gone as Harry had hoped. True, had Judas accepted his invitation, he would have had to prepare for the onslaught of confusion about his relationship with the boy. But instead, he was plagued with the doubts and frustration of having a secret kept from him by someone he trusted. There was something that Judas was hiding other than his real name, and the apprehension was unsettling. Could it be something harmless, like physical insecurities or nervousness, which made Judas hesitate? Or could it really be something serious? What could he possibly have to hide that made the secret admirer so afraid of Harry knowing? Albeit being a rather opinionated person, Harry considered himself to be accepting of others and their quirks. He was practically family to all of the Weasley children, after all, and being friends with the twins requires a bit of leeway. So what could it be?

All of his questions about his feelings for Judas were put on hold in light of his new concerns.

The brunette sitting across from him noted Harry's silence and the girl touched his wrist gently to bring him out of his thoughts. "Harry? You've been rather quiet. Are you alright?"

He realized his odd behavior and gave her a quick attempt at a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

She eyed him critically before cautiously asking, "Did something happen with Judas?" The way Harry perked up at the name gave himself away and she frowned pointedly.

"What happened?" Ron asked, leaning in a little so they could talk amongst themselves.

"Nothing. We just had a little… well, not a fight exactly, but—" Harry saw Hermione's frown deepen, suspecting that the admirer had done something hurtful and proven her right. He continued quickly, trying to sound as casual about it as possible. "It's really not important. I asked him to Toadseye's party and he said no. That's all."

"He what?" Ron's face clearly showed irritation that Judas' rejection meant he lost the argument he had with his girlfriend the day before.

"He says he's afraid we'll change once I meet him."

"Of course you will," the girl stated, pursing her lips. "Right now, he's just this person you've built up in your head. You've created him to be perfect and now he probably fears it, whether he's honorable or not. Every one would rather their loved ones think they're prefect rather than settle for being called average."

"I'm completely aware that he isn't perfect, Hermione," Harry defended with a little more sharpness than he meant to. He couldn't help the pang of hurt he felt at her words. Harry hadn't built Judas up; Judas was everything Harry thought he was. Every word the boy spoke was proof of it. He was intelligent and fair, passionate, humorous, and real. Especially real. Harry may have never laid eyes knowingly on the boy, but every pause and stutter in his words were driven by true emotions, and that was enough to convince Harry. "If he were perfect," he continued hotly, "we wouldn't be having this conversation because he would be sitting here eating with us." It was honest. Harry realized that what he really wanted from Judas was to hear those pauses in the boy's voice, not satisfied just to read them.

"Have you talked to him since then?" Ron asked, ignoring the pained look Hermione was sending her scarred friend.

"No, but it was only last night. I'll try to talk to him again tonight, after we're back in the dorm—"

Hermione suddenly stood and gave Harry a severe glare, succinctly cutting him off and intent on biting back just as sharply. "If he's so insistent on remaining secret for this long, then he obviously has something vital to hide. Most admirers give themselves up at the slightest hint of reciprocation, but he is flat out rejecting you. You are being ridiculous by trusting him at all." She grabbed her books and promptly left the Great Hall in the direction of their Transfiguration class. Ron looked after her as if he had half a mind to continue their argument from Herbology. Harry buried his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes, aggravated. He was so tired of people dictating who he should or shouldn't trust, should or shouldn't be friends with, should or shouldn't love.

Ron patted Harry's shoulder awkwardly, not really knowing how to comfort his best friend when it came to things like this. "Don't listen to her, mate. You know how she gets when she thinks she's protecting you. I'm sure Judas has his reasons for saying no to the party."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the other and sent him a sideways smile. "I'm fine, Ron. Really. It was just a disagreement."

The redhead shrugged and took another bite of his cereal, talking around his food with a curious crease in his brow. "Yeah, but you guys disagree on loads of stuff and never let it get to you. I mean, for starters, he actually _likes_ Potions."

Grateful for the shift in topic, Harry scoffed. "I like Potions more now that Snape isn't the one teaching it."

Ron sent him a large, teasing smirk. "I bet you'd like it a _lot_ more if Judas was the one teaching it. Then again, you might not be able to focus with the way you'd be staring at him—agh!" Harry elbowed his friend playfully making them both laugh at Harry's embarrassment. He enjoyed being able to joke about Judas, and his doubts of the admirer's secrets were forgotten for the moment. They finished their breakfast in high spirits and began to leave the hall together before Ron caught sight of Seamus at the end of the table. "Oh! Go on without me, Harry. I needed to ask Seamus about what he's scouted out at the Slytherin practices. See you in class."

Harry waved him off and crossed the castle to McGonagall's classroom. Hermione was sitting outside of it when he arrived, textbook open in her lap but not reading a word of it. He slowly approached her and, when there was no opposition from the girl, sat down beside her. He didn't know what to say, so allowed them to sit in silence for many long minutes. Finally, she seemed to lose her resolve and turned to Harry remorsefully. "I'm sorry, Harry. I shouldn't have said that. I'm just worried about you. You are such a kind person that you sometimes don't think that there can be rudeness in the world outside of the Death Eaters."

"Well stop worrying so much," he stated simply. "When have I ever put my trust in a person who I shouldn't have?"

She shifted a little as she thought, his casual tone lightening her mood. "I suppose you are a rather decent judge of character."

"Except for maybe when it came to you and Ron," he joked, sending her a smile. "I mean, you two do always seem to be around whenever I get in trouble."

She laughed, the tension abating. "Yes, but who is the one that is always leading us headlong into said trouble?" Harry gave her a guilty grin and they chuckled a bit before growing serious once more. She sighed, seemingly to gather the strength to concede defeat. "Listen, Harry, if you are really sure about this guy, then I'll trust you. I still have my doubts, but I know you know what you're doing."

"Thanks, Hermione."

They shared a smile, and then Ron rounded the corner. As soon as he saw the girl, the contented look on his face was replaced with an angry frown and he walked directly into the classroom without addressing her. Apparently, the problems Hermione had with Judas fed into something neither her or Harry understood. The two shared a brief glance and followed the redhead inside.

XXXXXXXXXX

Dean had happily accepted the position of Chaser and practice went somewhat smoothly, all things considered. Ron was a bit self-conscious and got himself mixed up a couple of times, Ginny was getting flustered at her brother's mistakes, and Dean wasn't as quick as Harry remembered. Still, they were able to function properly, and Harry couldn't ask for much more then that for now.

They had just returned to the dormitory. Ron jumped in the shower and Dean went off to find Seamus, who was peeved that Dean got the position instead of him. Harry thanked Merlin that Neville was down in the Common Room, which meant he had the dorm all to himself. Meaning he could talk to Judas freely. He pulled out the transfer sphere, biting his lip in happiness, eager to leave last night's disagreement behind and replace it with their usual chatting.

Plopping down on his bed lazily, he held the sphere in front of him and greeted the boy as he always did. "Hey, Judas." There was no immediate response, but there rarely ever was. It was normal for Judas to take a moment to realize Harry was talking to him, so the Gryffindor paid no heed to it and carried on, hoping to bypass any awkwardness the admirer thought may have lingered. "I wanted to apologize about what I said yesterday. I shouldn't have pressured you like that." This time he waited, letting his mind wander over the things he wanted to talk about as he watched the globe absently. After a minute, the sphere had remained empty, and Harry frowned at it. "Judas?" he asked again for good measure, but still did not receive a response.

Down in the dungeons, locked in his dorm due to the sheer lack of desire to speak to anyone, lay Draco. He was already in his pajamas and curled up under his blankets, thinking critically about the coming weekend and what would happen to him. He was already beginning to question his original plan to blame Zabini, and feared the options he was left with. The stillness of the room echoed his instability, and he could feel himself dropping lower and lower into his trepidation. And then the scent finally reached his nose. He had been expecting it all evening. Harry was talking through the transfer spheres, but Draco didn't make any move to withdraw the globe from beneath his pillow. The mere scent emitting from it stirred a longing in him, stronger than he wanted to admit. He had grown accustomed to the smell and his pleasant conversations with Harry being linked. Now, as the odor leaked its way through the fabric and fluff of his pillow, it evoked a deep craving for the Gryffindor's presence.

And that, in itself, was a problem.

Draco firmly resisted checking the sphere, even to quench his curiosity about if it was something important. No, he mustn't succumb. He had to stay in control. Whatever was forming between himself and Harry had to be restricted before it grew any further. Because the moment that Draco's desire for Harry became greater than his fear of the Dark Lord, the Malfoy heir's world would unravel into chaos.

Harry's calls went unanswered that night, and for many nights following.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry kept replaying the conversation in his head. Well, as much of it as he could remember. Judas' sudden absence was disconcerting, and Harry's only conclusion was that he must have said something to upset or offend the admirer during their disagreement. But he couldn't remember what! Although he recalled being rather blunt and firm, he had forgotten most of the exact words that were exchanged. This only led him to believe, as he had done with many things in regards to other people's emotions, that he had completely overlooked something and was now stuck with an emotionally distraught boy somewhere in the castle.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. Hermione looked up from her book and offered him a sympathetic smile. "Still no response from Judas?" she asked. They were sitting in the Common Room opposite the fire. They were supposed to be working on their DADA essays, but Harry had been unable to focus.

"Not a word," he confirmed, flipping his copy of _Confronting the Faceless_ closed with a defeated sigh. It was Friday, which meant that he had a quidditch game tomorrow. If he couldn't resolve the issue with Judas before the game, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to play at his best. "I don't know what I did, Hermione. I mean, if I upset him or not. I don't know what I'm supposed to do about it. I already tried apologizing for bringing it up in the first place, but nothing." After the second day of Judas' silence, Harry had told Hermione all the details of the disagreement he had with his admirer. She had found Harry's argument valid, and had assured him that Judas was probably thinking the same thing.

"He may just need time to evaluate what you had to say. It's only been a few days, after all."

"I just… I wish I knew how to help. I don't like him not talking to me."

Hermione found the frustrated pout on Harry's face to be endearing, and figured she should put the situation into perspective for her best friend. "There's nothing you can do right now except wait. Assuming everything we know about Judas is true, he's most likely in a very difficult position. He cares for you, and has adored you from afar for a long time. He finally summoned the courage to confront you about his feelings, and then everything happens so suddenly. Most admirers expect immediate rejection, which is why they choose to be secret. Your acceptance of him and his attraction to you probably caught him off guard, and now he's wrapped up in his self-doubt. He's shocked that you might actually reciprocate his feelings, nervous that he may not be all you want him to be, and scared half out of his mind about what will happen when the rest of the wizarding world discovers the affair. The best thing you can do is give him some space to sort through his confusion. He'll contact you once he's ready. Not everyone is as used to publicity as you are, Harry." She returned to reading her textbook, leaving the boy to blink at her, overwhelmed.

"I don't think I will ever get used to how emotionally attuned you are with people you barely even know."

She chuckled at the compliment, remembering the time she had done a similar analysis of Cho after her first kiss with Harry. "It's called being observant. You should try it sometime."

The corner of his mouth quirked up in an amused smirk just as the Common Room door opened, letting in a beaming redhead. The instant Hermione and Ron saw each other, the boy frowned at her and she rolled her eyes, gathering her books and murmuring a goodbye to Harry before joining Ginny and Romilda across the room. Apparently, the to had non-verbally broken up for the time being, which was doing nothing for calming Harry's already frayed nerves.

Ron waited until she had settled down with the other girls, still watching her like an angry crow, and then joined Harry at his table. The frown was immediately replaced with a huge grin. "You'll never believe this! So, I just heard from Seamus that he heard from Terry Boot that he heard from Harper that the Slytherin's best Chaser, Vaisey, was hit in the head with a bludger during their practice earlier today, and Madame Pomfrey says he can't play in the game tomorrow."

"That's brilliant, Ron." Harry hoped he sounded as excited and his friend wanted him to be, though quidditch was one of the furthest things from the Gryffindor Seeker's mind.

"There's more," he continued, his grin becoming a smirk that seemed to say he knew the juiciest piece of gossip and was savoring the taste. "Malfoy's sick and can't play either, so his mum called him home for the weekend to make sure it isn't related to the Hogsmeade incident!"

He had Harry's rapt attention at the mention of Draco's name and was immediately suspicious. Why would Draco pull out of quidditch last minute? He had claimed to be too sick to play once before, but the blonde had been sure to reschedule the game for a time that better suited the Slytherins. What would make him allow the team to play without him? Harry knew that Draco craved the challenge as much as he did. And though Gryffindor always won, Draco never gave up or weakened his resolve. That was what made him such an addictive opponent.

Quidditch swiftly lost its appeal.

XXXXXXXXXX

Draco took one last deep breath to collect himself before knocking on the door of his father's study. He had arrived nearly an hour earlier and had been waiting in his room for his father to call on him. He knew better than to disrupt the man while he was working, and was working on some homework he had brought with him when the house elf appeared in his room, claiming the man was ready for him.

"Enter," said a voice on the other side of the door. Draco ensured his face was pointedly blank before obeying.

His father sat at a large black desk, a candelabrum on one corner and a neat stack of journals on the other. In front of him were scattered documents from the Ministry concerning the current cases going through the courts. Although the man was technically in hiding, he did not allow the world to continue on without him. He had no intention of staying hidden away, and wanted his full social influences once he was back in the world. He eyes only left his paperwork to meet Draco's when he heard the door close behind his son. The flickering light from the candles highlighted his sharp jaw line, which was tight with the tension of a prideful man, and his gaze was as calm and refined as ever. "Sit down."

Draco did as he was told, and they shared a brief moment of knowing silence, agreeing that the discussion about to occur was of the utmost seriousness. When Lucius spoke again, his voice was steady and demanded truth with its poised fluidity. "Did you, or did you not, orchestrate an inept attack last Saturday involving a cursed opal necklace and a Miss Katie Bell?" he asked shortly.

"Yes, sir, I did."

"And why is that?"

"The professors have become suspicious of me."

Lucius regarded his son meticulously. Short and direct answers had always been the requirement of speaking to his father, but Draco could see the need for more details as the man struggled to add up his story. "Explain."

Draco relaxed slightly in his chair. His father was going to listen to his full story. That could only mean that the man was intent on helping his son escape the consequences of his mistake. Although his face remained strict, Lucius was willing to give his full support in helping his son survive the Dark Lord's retribution. "I have fallen behind in my studies," the boy began, a twinge of bitterness and shame tinting his voice at his admittance of failure. "I have been confronted about my academic decline on more than one occasion. However, I simply do not have the time to work on the cabinet and continue the same level of quality in my schoolwork. After receiving a detention for these exact reasons, I knew I would have to draw their attention away from me. I organized the acquisition of the necklace and arranged to have it brought onto Hogwarts grounds."

"Was Potter your intended target?"

"Whose hands it ended up in did not concern me," he lied. Honestly, he didn't even believe that it would make in onto the grounds. He could not stand the idea of it actually killing someone. Especially Harry. "I wanted it to be somewhat conspicuous, because my intention was for it to be discovered. The mere fact that it successfully got inside the school from Hogsmeade would lead the professors to believe the cause to be an outside source, or at least from a student who had been in Hogsmeade that day. Since McGonagall had sat with me herself during my detention Saturday, I knew I would have a solid alibi."

"Did it ever occur to you that this incident would cause them to heighten security around the school grounds?"

"What would it matter if they did? The Death Eaters aren't planning to use the front gate, after all." Draco quickly stopped talking. The questions were causing him to lose a little control of his manners and he let slip his sarcasm. That was not tolerated when directed towards his father. But the man did not seem to notice. His gaze had drifted to the bookshelf the Draco's left, not really seeing anything as his mind raced. The story was more honest than the boy had originally intended to disclose, and his father recognized it as such. The truth. Or as close to the truth as Draco was willing to admit. If that was not good enough to convince Voldemort… Well, that was why he needed his father right now.

Many moments passed without Lucius' eyes smirking with the solution Draco had been expecting. This caused the boy's nerves to arise and he shifted a little in his chair. The movement brought his father's gaze back to him and he spoke carefully.

"Draco, I am about to tell you something that I probably shouldn't. I warn you now not to anger. Such feelings towards the Dark Lord will only invite his wrath." Draco nodded in understanding, and his father continued. "He does not wish for Potter to die. In fact, he has no intention of killing Potter any time in the near future. The only reason he gave you this assignment for your initiation as a Death Eater is because he so doubts your dedication to the Dark Arts."

Draco's brow creased in confusion. "If he does not want Potter dead, then what does he want? What is the true purpose of the vanishing cabinet?"

"He wants the school. If he succeeds in getting his Death Eaters inside the castle, then he can stage an attack. Hogwarts is the one place we cannot break into. His two worst enemies are housed there, and those same two are the ones keeping us out. We must breech the school and capture them. That is the Dark Lord's wish."

"Capture them? You mean, he wants to hold them prisoner?"

"Not entirely. I'm sure he plans to kill Dumbledore as soon as possible."

Draco's mouth went dry. "And, what of Potter?"

"He'll keep him. Torture him and play with him, but keep him alive. Because he can't kill him."

Draco was finding it difficult to concentrate, let alone speak. Harry… kept as the Dark Lord's pet to torture whenever he pleased. The memory of screams echoing down the corridors of the Malfoy Manor over the summer filled his mind, and he deemed death a blessing in comparison. "Why… Why wouldn't he kill him? Just kill him and get it over with so there is no chance he'll escape?"

Lucius seemed to be having an internal debate. His loyalty and fear of the Dark Lord insisted that this information was not to be shared, and it could cost him dearly. But he was a father, and that instinct to protect his child was presenting a strong argument. But it was the promises of pride in seeing his son follow in his footsteps and becoming a Death Eater that won the battle in Draco's favor. The victory was slight and fragile, but enough. He stood and approached the bookshelf he had been gazing at earlier. Without looking at it, he pulled out a slender leather-bound tome, carried it behind his back and handed it to his son as he returned to his seat.

Draco immediately hid it on his lap and did not look at it. Keeping it out of sight was a clear indication that Lucius feared Voldemort using Legilimency and seeing the book he offered. Though the Dark Lord was a skilled Legilimens, he could not read in Lucius what he did not know. The likelihood of his father being read was fair, and Draco took extra caution to appear as if nothing had occurred.

"That is none of your concern. How is your progress coming along with the cabinet?"

"I can't find it," Draco answered, returning to succinct answers to preserve the façade.

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Can't find it?"

"I keep asking the Room of Requirement for it, but the door never appears."

"That is because you are asking the wrong questions. Remember, the person who put the cabinet there in the beginning was not looking for the cabinet. You are requesting an entirely different room than the one it is in."

"You mean I have to need the same thing as the original owner?"

"Precisely."

Draco's gaze fell to his folding hands in thought. What would he ask for if he had a vanishing cabinet that he needed to put somewhere…? "He would need a place to hide something. A place no one would find it."

Lucius gave him a satisfied smile that told Draco he had done well. The man looked back to his papers, the way he had been doing before his son's arrival, and no longer acknowledged his presence. "You may leave."

Draco stood, nodding to his father in respect, and turned to exit the office. At the door, he looked over his shoulder as he father grabbed one of his journals and mumbled, "Page one-hundred and twenty-seven." The man flipped to the corresponding page and made a quick note, never once glancing up at Draco. But the boy knew what he meant.

Author's Note/ So, yeah, I know it took me nearly three months to get this chapter up. I just moved across a few states and was busy settling in, searching for a job, and then working at said job. It took me a bit to get back into the swing of fanfiction. And once I did, I was completely craving some Puppy Shipping (SetoxJou – YuGiOh). So, yeah, it took me a while to get my head back in the world of Harry Potter. But once I did, this chapter just popped right out like it was nothing. I already have ideas for the next chapter, so I'll hopefully have that up within the next two weeks. My idea is that I will post one chapter for each of my pay-periods. Then it will kind of feel like I'm being paid to write fanfiction. Haha! Okay, okay, enough chatting. Love you all! Review?


	13. Horcruxes

Year Six: Harry Potter and the Secret Letters

Chapter Thirteen: Horcruxes

Warnings: Due to the sudden in-depth plotting this story is undergoing to prepare for Book Seven, I have discovered many problems. Not least of which is how the hell to introduce Harry to Horcruxes, seeing as Dumbledore has been practically non-existent (something I will explain when I rewrite chapter one). This is my solution. Forgive my attempt at poetry, but I'm sure it will suffice. Any opinions/advice on the verse would be appreciated. Enjoy-!

'Page one-hundred and twenty-seven…'

Draco locked himself in his room, ordering a house elf that he was not to be disturbed until he said otherwise. Sitting on his bed, he hastily flipped the book open to the correct page. The paper was worn thin with time and ready to tear at the smallest, unfriendly treatment. The ink was faded, rubbed off in some spots, and written in elaborate calligraphy. At the top was written '_Horcrux,_' the "H" large and swirling around the other letters. Draco furrowed his brow at the word. He had never heard it before, and wondered if it was the name of a spell, or perhaps a different language altogether. Beneath it, however, was a verse in Old-English script, merely one page in length. He flipped it over, but that was the entirety of the entry before it moved on to Horned Beasts. He kicked off his shoes as he settled in to read, his curiosity piqued.

'_In the darkest of magic does reside_

_The key to Man's most elusive desire._

_A word of caution to all who seek_

_To alter the course of their destiny:_

_A mistake may lead to thine demise,_

_Thus to be rid such yearning would be wise._

_But if thee persists in this dire pursuit,_

_These words should you thoroughly peruse._

_The only requirement of this spell_

_Is the innocent blood that must be spilt._

_But if in murder thou would'st take pleasure,_

_Thy hate shall lead thy soul to wither_

_To dust, as one so rightly deserves._

_However, if it be evil thee serves_

_And willing to live but half a life,_

_There is a cure in thine own sacrifice._

_While in its weakened state, the soul may split_

_In equal parts, one of which thee may slip_

_Into an object of great meaning._

_An act so bold, so beyond conceiving!_

_But if accomplished in all its success,_

_The mortal body in battle dispensed_

Would not conclude in thy wizard's death

_For a soul dwells like a quivering breath._

_Not so much living as lying in wait,_

_Far worse than death is now thy fate._

_Thus eternity is granted to him,_

_The wizard who dares doth challenge the Grim.'_

Draco reread the verse numerous times, but could hardly grasp what it was saying. Was this a formula for immortality? To 'challenge the Grim' would be to oppose death, but that didn't make any sense. Immortality was impossible. Even with an Elixir of Life or the Philosopher's Stone, eventual decay would occur until you wasted away into nothing. The poem did mention 'withering,' 'half a life' and 'dwell on a quivering breath,' but that was not what Draco thought it meant. This was something far more sinister than old age. 'The soul may split in equal parts?' If that were indeed possible, which Draco highly doubted was true, you wouldn't be able to function properly. A vital piece of you would be missing. What would that mean to one's being? Would you become a vegetable, unable to feel or think like a healthy, whole human?

Draco's face was scrunched up in concentration, disbelief and disgust. No such magic could possibly exist. He had never even heard of it, and he had made a point to be well versed in these matters, as was expected of Death Eaters. "Splitting your soul… How ridiculous," Draco sneered, snapping the book shut. Climbing off of his bed, he pulled off his shirt and approached his dresser to grab his pajamas. As he went to throw his dirty clothes into a basket beside his bathroom door, he withdrew the transfer sphere from his pants pocket. He stared at the hollow center, disappointed. The longing to talk to Harry from days before was as strong as ever, and it was annoying the blonde to no end that he couldn't simply turn off the feeling. He tossed the sphere onto his bed and continued his dressing.

'Then again…'

Draco glanced over at the book, which the sphere at landed beside. His father had personally directed him to this magic, had seemed to have difficulty whether or not to reveal it, and made an effort to be inconspicuous and hide the fact from the Dark Lord. Lucius would only behave in such a way if the topic in question was of the utmost importance and secrecy. The man was much too proud and intelligent to waste his time studying false magic.

It may seem impossible, but this concerned the Dark Lord. If there did exist magic as horrific as ripping apart your own soul to become immortal, Voldemort would be the first to try it. Draco tied the drawstring on his pajama bottoms distractedly, reclaiming his spot on his bed and opening the book back up to Horcruxes. He studied the words ruthlessly, examining each line for a conceivable translation.

'But if in murder thou would'st take pleasure…' So, it isn't simply the act of killing. It can't be an act of self-defense, or something you regret. It's slaughter for the pure enjoyment of slaughter. The perfect description of his father's dark king. Draco picked up the transfer sphere and rolled it in his hands as he thought, the cool glass calming him, keeping him in the present and away from the echoes of the past summer.

'…In equal parts, one of which thee may slip into an object of great meaning.' His eyes slid down to the orb in his hands. How could a soul reside in an object? A soul is an essence, something that only living creatures possessed. Even that was arguable, since Draco wasn't sure he believed in the existence of a soul to begin with. But ignoring the philosophical debate and assuming every word of this passage was true, a man's very essence could be stored away in an inanimate _anything_. A chair, a book, a piece of lint. Draco couldn't quite understand the appeal, let alone the mechanics of the spell. Although, it did say it had to be of great meaning. Like… his transfer sphere, he noted dully. Damn the cursed thing for making him get so attached. But if that is indeed the case, if the object was close enough to the wizard's heart to begin with, maybe it would already feel like a part of you and the soul would feel at home there—

Listen to him! Talking about a soul as if it had a mind of its own! Draco rolled his eyes at himself. What was a soul anyway?

He stared vacantly into the sphere's hollow core, deflated. Horcrux… it all sounded like a bunch of bollocks to him. He couldn't wrap his head around it; his insistence on logic was blocking his view of what the words in front of him presented. Unlike Harry. Harry and the others could have figured this out. They aren't ruled by pride and a decade of fine-tuning by their families. Weasley would probably throw out something outlandish and incomprehensible. Harry, as muggle-brained as ever, would most likely find a thread of probability in the ludicrous idea and present it bluntly, no closer to the truth, but enough for Granger to fill in all the gaps with her internal encyclopedia. But now that it was Draco's turn to solve the great riddle of the Dark Lord, he was at a loss. Did it even matter?

In his current predicament, would it make any difference whether he understood or not? What were his father's exact words? 'He does not wish for Potter to die.' He can't kill him because of a Horcrux curse. Does that mean Harry had performed a Horcrux? That wasn't important. Voldemort didn't want him dead; he wanted Harry prisoner. That meant Draco would not be forced to become a murderer, or at least not yet. If he could simply entice Harry to come out, Voldemort would have his satisfaction and Draco's family would be released from their threats.

'He'll keep him. Torture him and play with him, but keep him alive.'

Those specific words still rang perfectly clear, and Draco suppressed a shudder. The thought of Harry under the Cruciatus Curse made him wince. Then a momentary image of Voldemort's hand ghosting over Harry's bare stomach, the sultry fluidity of a victorious predator… A wave of horror and fury coursed through him. It was only a split-second of adrenaline, but the blond forcefully had to ease his clenched fists and jaw loose. No… The Gryffindor had an amazing talent of getting out of those sorts of situations, he repeated to himself. There was little doubt in Draco's mind that the other teen would concoct some unfathomable plan of escape.

However, there was also the matter of Harry's trust. If Draco used Judas to lead to the lion's capture, all trust Harry could have kept in him would be gone. It was a cruel act of betrayal. But… that was the original purpose of Judas, after all. Would he be able to go through with it? Was he willing to pay that price?

"Harry?"

The sphere remained empty for agonizing seconds, but only seconds nonetheless.

_Judas?_

Draco's heart was hammering in his chest.

_Listen, if it's about what I said the other night—_

"It is. But don't apologize. You had every right to make that request of me, and I'm sorry that I couldn't give you what you wanted."

_It's all right. I understand._

"I've been thinking a lot about what you said, and I want to meet with you."

_Really? Er, that's great. When?_

"After the holidays," he replied after a moment. That would hopefully give him plenty of time to finish the cabinet.

_But… That's months from now._

"You were right when you said it wasn't fair how little you knew about me, and I've actively tried to hide it from you. So, maybe we should spend that time letting you get to know me."

_I already know loads about you. I mean, I might not know what House you're in or who your parents are, but that's hardly important. I know you as a person, as my friend. All those other things are just results of that._

Harry had a way of making these things difficult. And he was now officially referring to Judas as his friend? Interesting. "Please, Harry, just do this for me?"

The other seemed to take the time to consider the proposition seriously. _Fine. After the holidays._

"Thank you." Draco released a soothing breath; the plan was in motion and it no longer needed his concern tonight. "So how have things been since I talked to you last?"

_Merlin!_

Draco let out a humored scoff, shoving aside his schoolbooks and getting comfortable under his blankets. "That bad?"

_We have a quidditch match tomorrow, but I have been so wrapped up with if you were mad at me or not, I haven't been able to focus on practice._

"Oh? You've been thinking of me that much, huh?" Draco pressed with a triumphant smirk.

_What? And you haven't spent the last four days thinking about me?_

The blond raised a single eyebrow in appraisal. Harry was a thousand miles away and still able to read his mind. "Granted."

_It's the first match of the season. You'll be there, right? No detentions or anything?_

"No, no detentions. But I won't be able to make it. I'm not feeling well and Pomphrey thinks I should stay out of the cool air for now."

_Odd. Everyone seems to be falling ill._

"Everyone?"

_Well, you know Katie's at St. Mungo's right now, Malfoy's out sick, and Vaisey's been hit in the head with a bludger. Not to mention Ron and Hermione have gone from bickering to full-out avoiding each other._

Draco shook his head disapprovingly against his pillow. Those two always seemed to be causing drama. "Why? What happened now?"

_I don't know, actually. It started as a fight about you and me, and then it just escaladed. I don't even get it anymore._

"Don't they have something better to talk about other than us? I mean, as flattering as it is, isn't it a bit annoying to have them sticking their noses in your business all the time?"

_Yes, it is. I talked to Hermione about it privately. She promised to let it go and trust my opinion of you._

Draco gazed at the sphere seriously, ignoring the return of butterflies in his stomach. "And, what _is _your opinion of me?"

_…That you are an honest and trust-worthy person… and that I like you._

His stomach did a flip and he sank down lower into his blankets, unsure how one was supposed to respond to such forwardness. "I… I like you, too, Harry."

_I know…_

Nothing was said for a short while, but the silence wasn't awkward. Draco was at ease, comfortable with what he had just admitted. To Harry, Judas had fancied him from the beginning. But, in truth, it was painfully apparent to the blond that the once fabricated feelings were slowing becoming real. And he just had to accept that.

XXXXXXXXXX

Draco waited up Saturday night, late into the next morning, for his father's return. He had been summoned that evening to the Dark Lord's side to presumably report what he found out about the Hogsmeade incident. Draco didn't know how much of the truth would be related to the snake, but he trusted his father to know what would be approved of and what wouldn't. As much as he despised that his father bowed to that creature, such intell was highly appreciated at the moment.

He spent that morning talking to Harry over the spheres, answering all sorts of questions about unimportant matters: places he wanted to go, deceased wizards he wished he could speak to, whether he preferred pumpkin juice or apple cider and why. A lot of 'why' questions. It was evident that Harry wanted to get this 'learning about Judas' thing out of the way. "No, I'm an only child. Yes, I've been to a few World Cup matches. I don't know; I've never been to America."

The most interesting part of the whole interrogation process was how much he was still learning about Harry. Although the Gryffindor had often rambled on about the events he went through at school, he realized that he knew the answers to very few of the exact questions being asked of him. He had Harry agree early on to give his own answer to every question he asked.

_I'm an only child, too. So was my dad, as far as I know. My mum had a sister, my Aunt Petunia. And I do have a cousin._

_I went to a World Cup game once, the summer I turned fourteen. That was the first time I saw Viktor Krum, before the Triwizard Tournament._

_I haven't been to America, either. Actually, I've never been outside England._

"We'll have to travel out of the country, then, once this is all over."

_To where?_

"I don't know. Pick somewhere."

_How about Romania? Ron's brother studies dragons there, and it might be fun to see them when they aren't trying to kill me._

_"Alright. Romania."_

Many such agreements had been made. Though, their first order of business was a lot less grandeur.

_Butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks,_ Harry had proclaimed at one point. _That's what we should go do, after the holidays._

Draco tried not to think about how he was making plans for his first date with Harry Potter. "What if they still aren't allowing students to go back to Hogsmeade?"

_Then we'll go to the Hogwarts kitchen and ask. There's a house elf there, Dobby, who's a friend of mine. I'm sure he'd find a way to make some._

"Harry Potter, friend of house elves. Why am I not surprised? I've never heard a wizard call a house elf his friend."

_They aren't given enough credit. Though, Hermione tried to form a club to free them once, but all the elves at Hogwarts were treated so well by Dumbledore that they didn't want freedom. Dobby ended up collecting every sock, hat, and glove she left out._

Draco remembered Dobby as being one of his family's house elves up until the end of his second year. His father had been furious that Harry Potter had so easily lost him a servant. Draco, on the other hand, didn't particularly care; one house elf was as good as the next and wasn't worth getting upset over. "I vaguely recall S.K.E.W. It was mild school gossip about how one of Know-It-All-Granger's experiments had failed for once. A rarity indeed."

_Don't tell Hermione that. She still insists that she had good reason for what she did._

"She's as stubborn as we are. I know that if it had been me, I would claim I was right until the day I died, no matter how many elves and wizards told me otherwise."

_Yeah, I guess you're right. That's how I was about the return of Voldemort._

"I know."

So on they spoke, for hours, and then lunch came around. Harry excused himself, promising that they would talk later that night after quidditch. With a quick 'get some rest,' the silver scrawl disappeared from the sphere. Draco relished in the uncommonly lazy morning, feeling refreshed that he didn't have to get ready before the sun was high in the sky. He finally allowed the house elves to enter his room again, requesting lunch while he prepared to take a hot shower. He asked the whereabouts of his mother, but it appeared that the woman was visiting a family friend that weekend, obviously fleeing the estate lest the Dark Lord decide to make an unexpected visit.

He spent the afternoon doing homework and making an honest attempt to not check his transfer sphere every five minutes. He knew that the Quidditch match wouldn't be over until dusk, but it didn't stop his mind from traveling back to the Gryffindor constantly. It was as if he was becoming addicted to Harry, and he was fervently trying to prove that false.

When Harry did at last return, he didn't stay long. The Gryffindors had won, predictably, and were having their usual victory party. Draco didn't detain him; he told him to go enjoy himself and that they could talk tomorrow. Harry reaffirmed that he would talk to him throughout Sunday since he had nothing to do except homework, and then he disappeared for the rest of the evening.

This left Draco to wait up for his father in silence.

He had finished his school assignments some time ago and was distractedly stroking Aristotle's feathers when he heard the distant pop of his father apparating on the boundary of the estate. Quickly jumping up from his bed, he made his way to the front of the manor and was standing in wait in the foyer when his father entered the front door. He knew that his father would have little patience for his son's inefficiencies, especially after having worked so diligently at saving the boy's reputation in the eyes of Voldemort. The man barely spared him a glance before heading straight to his study. Draco followed, obediently mute.

"Our Lord doubts your loyalty," his father stately flatly as he claimed the chair behind the desk, leaving his son to close the door behind them quietly. Draco did not sit down, his body much to rigid with apprehension to consider such action. "Therefore, I attempted to assure him by making a severe, albeit rash, offer. Since no words can be trusted, only action will appease him. I suggested he brand you with the Dark Mark immediately, to prove your intentions."

Draco's entire being tensed in horror.

No, he couldn't. His father wouldn't really make such an offer. He could expect him to pledge himself at his age, at this time, with nothing to save him. If Draco were branded with the Dark Mark now, all hope for his escape would be lost. He would be eternally bound to the Lord, and forever in his service. The thought made the blood rush out of his face.

"However," his father continued, "the Dark Lord has refused. He deems that you have not yet earned it. I was successful in removing nearly all suspicion from you, but he will need to see progress immediately if we are to continue to hold his favor. Already, he loses confidence in my own loyalty."

The brief terror of moments before slowly melted off of the boy, leaving him dizzy and unfocused. Whatever his father was speaking of at the moment, Draco did not hear a word of it.

"When you return to school, you must directly begin work on the cabinet and inform me of the steps you have taken and any other assistance you may require. I am sure that I have already provided you with all the tools and enchantments that you will need, but there is no telling the current state of the thing. I want to know as soon as you find it in the Room of Requirement. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father," Draco responded habitually, vaguely noting the subject matter although not paying attention to what he just agreed to.

"You may leave."

The young Slytherin was only slightly surprised at the sudden dismissal, but did not ask questions. His father was probably exhausted from the day in Voldemort's service, and Draco wasn't feeling up to much conversation anyway. He rushed back to his room, as if his father could change his mind about the Dark Mark at any moment, and closed his bedroom door with finality. Burying himself in his bed under various blankets, he tried to take a few deep breaths to calm his rushing pulse. Without worrying about the risks of being seen, he withdrew the transfer sphere from under his pillow and rolled it in his hands. The smooth glass was familiar and gave him a way to ground himself.

As he examined the clear orb, thoughts of Harry trickled back into his mind. Soon, worried of Voldemort were dampened by pleasant memories of the Gryffindor, and Draco felt his body begin to relax into the blankets.

"Harry...?" he murmured into the sphere, not really expecting a response at this hour. "Thank you."

He allowed his eyes to close, and tried to get some sleep, becoming more and more content as his mind wondered over the other boy. He inhaled Harry's scent as exhaustion claimed him.

XXXXXXXXXX

The next morning, Draco was being apparated to the school gates. Severus was already there waiting for him when he arrived and remained blessedly silent on their march towards the castle. Snape was obviously at the Death Eater meeting that weekend and knew everything there was about the young Slytherin's lack of progress. There was nothing left to say. Draco abandoned the professor in the Great Hall, rushing towards the Slytherin common room in earnest, intent on shutting himself in his dormitory and not speaking with anyone for the day.

He was halfway through the common room when Blaise stepped into his path, a dangerous frown on his face. Draco sneered at the bold interruption but caught sight of Pansy behind him and bit back a retort. He followed them silently up to the boy's dormitory where Pansy closed the door with a sharp snap.

"The Dark Mark?" Blaise began instantly, sounding completely scandalized. "Are you barking mad? A sixteen-year-old in the service. What makes you think you're any better than the rest of us? There is no way that the Dark Lord would recruit someone as young as we are. We should be grateful if he takes us in after graduation."

Draco was caught a bit off-guard. Oh, how quickly word spreads. He twisted his face into a victorious sneer. "Jealous, Blaise?"

"Of what? You didn't get it…" The boy faltered, second-guessing his sources. "Did you?"

"Unfortunately, the Dark Lord requests that finish my assignment before I am branded."

"Requests?" Zabini scoffed, but Draco continued on as if he hadn't spoken.

"I'm going to find the Room of Requirement today, as a matter of fact."

"Let us come with you," Pansy pressed, finally stepping away from the wall to speak. "The Room of Requirement could be a pretty big place sometimes. Maybe we can help you find what you're looking for?"

Draco's brow scrunched suspiciously. "Who said I was looking for anything?"

"Well, why would you be using the room if you weren't in need of something?"

The Malfoy heir concluded that he no longer trusted her for the time being. Perhaps his recent close calls made him a bit paranoid, but he was no longer in a position to take any chances. "No, you can't come with me. Do you think this is some sort of play date? If you do the job with me, it's not going to help you get into the service sooner. But it will keep _me_ from getting in, and my family will remain in danger." He turned his gaze back to the other boy. "So bugger off, Blaise. The last thing I need is your thirst for glory killing my mother."

The two glared at each other for a long moment before another voice interrupted them. "When you're playing games with the Dark Lord, every move can kill. Even a pawn can take a queen if you aren't careful." The three glanced to the other side of the room where Theo sat motionless on his bed. He hadn't made himself known when they barged in and was now in a rather dangerous position. An outsider just heard mention of Voldemort's plans. The choices: join them, or be reported and hunted. Surely this brief, inexplicit mention wouldn't warrant something so drastic, however, and thus he chose to bring attention to himself, before the conversation escaladed.

"We're all pawns, Theo," Draco snapped quietly as he sat on his bed. "There are no other pieces except us and our Dark King."

Nott closed his textbook that he had been taking notes from in favor of the dire conversation. "That's not true. Severus is a knight, hopping between pieces and taking what he needs to protect the Dark Lord. Your father is a rook, plowing down adversaries that dare oppose, just like your Aunt Bellatrix. And your mother is the queen."

"Bollux!" Blaise scoffed. "You don't even know what you're talking about. You have never been involved in the service and if you don't start soon, you'll be slaughtered with the rest of the Dumbledore admirers."

"Shut up, Zabini!" the blonde bit back and turned to the scholar. "What do you mean my mother's the queen?"

Theo smiled sadly. "She's what motivates all the other pieces to action."

"How?"

"Have you ever noticed that pieces move to protect their queen even before they protect their king. The queen is valuable, and the player knows it. People don't chase the king until the queen has been taken or is overwhelmed. You, Snape, Lestrange, and your father are all moving across the board with an express interest in protecting your mother. In doing so, they are fulfilling the player's desires, and the king is forgotten at the back of the battle. In a way, the king sacrifices itself in order to prolong his life."

Draco's gaze was transfixed on the boy, trying to comprehend what he was saying. The Dark Lord was using his mother not just to control him, but also to control all of his family. If that's true, then…

"Bloody hell, Nott, what have you been reading?" Zabini snickered. "You do realize that you're making a wizarding chess analogy, right? I think you have spent way too much time on your own."

"Maybe you just need to get out of the dorm for a while," Pansy suggested, quick to pick up on a less confrontational subject. "Why don't you sit with us at lunch today."

"Whoa, wait, you're inviting him into the group now? After that load of bollux?"

Draco tuned out the pointless bickering and sifted through the analogy carefully. He already knew that Voldemort was using his mother to make him comply, but he wondered how many others might be controlled in the same way. How many followers are not really followers at all, and how many of them only obey to protect their loved ones from murder?

Sacrifices itself to prolong its life…

Horcrux.

He sent Theo a curious look. No, he couldn't possibly know about Horcruxes. There was no way. If a Malfoy didn't know about it, none of his classmates did. Well, maybe the Gryffindor trio would, but he seriously doubted it. So… was the entire chess analogy just inconsequential? Was that last line simply a coincidence?

Draco stood and headed for the door, drawing the attention of the other three. "I'm going to the Room of Requirement. I'll catch up with you at the Halloween Feast tonight." With that, Draco left the dormitory. Zabini scowled at being left out, Pansy watched with pity, and Theo returned an equally curious gaze, wondering if perhaps he would become more involved with this as time went on.

TBC…

AN: Most of you gave up on me, and I don't blame you. I'm lacking a lot of motivation to write. Your reviews definitely help to encourage me though. I hope you enjoyed this very late installment. It is _so_ hard to write as someone who doesn't know what a Horcrux is when you know everything there is to know about Horcruxes. XD


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